


Ghost of Murder's Past

by Aerstes



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Pining, Post Season 2, Villaneve, WIP, canon adjacent, eventual murder wives, mentions of blood murder and violence bc thats it thats the show, sad murder baby and her stubborn healing girlfriend, slowburn, tryna conquer these characters will be the death of me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-03-29 13:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19021294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerstes/pseuds/Aerstes
Summary: TAKES PLACE AFTER THE SEASON 2 FINALE SO SPOILERS BEWARE. Eve is recovering in the hospital. A familiar face begins to appear while she sleeps. I have no idea where this story is going...





	1. Chapter 1

Eve can’t remember the last time she was fully conscious. She can’t remember the last time she was wide awake.

 

Well, she could, but she’d rather not. Conjuring the memory of it made her sick, and at the same time it made the memory seem to slink farther and farther away back into the recesses of her clouded mind. She didn’t know what was more terrifying, letting herself remember and chasing after it, or letting herself forget, and letting Villanelle’s hold on her mind slip away. 

 

But fuck, she couldn’t think, couldn’t remember clearly anyway. Morphine got exhausting after the first few days. Days? Weeks? Did it even matter? Every time a nurse came into her room and roused her from her dreamless sleep, she wished she could will up the strength to bat the needle full of forgetfulness away from her so that she could feel something again other than the high of the morphine and the dull ache in her back. And yet every time the nursed asked her what her pain level was, she answered “ten” without hesitation, and she was filled again with the warm, comforting delirium. 

 

At the moment, the nurse was not due back for this routine for a little while yet. Eve may not have been able to tell time anymore, but she could at least track the passing of time by the setting and rising of the sun, and by the predictable schedules of nurses. 

 

Tonight her nurse was Erica. Erica had been there for most of her nights, and her routine was always the same. Come into the room silently, wipe the name of the previous nurse off of the white board (this time it was Brandi who dotted her eye with a heart) with some disdain, and scribbled her own name with a neat but heavy slant. She then took the clipboard, made a point to tell Eve each thing the nurse had done that she thought was wrong, as if that made Eve feel any more secure in her care, and asked how much pain she was in, already putting the needle into the drip tube before Eve had even wet her mouth enough to form a reply.

 

Her helplessness was humiliating. She was so sick of it. If it was Villanelle who had been shot, would she have this defeated? Or would she have already snuck out the of the hospital in stolen clothes, planning out her revenge? 

 

Eve shook off the sleep that was pulling at her eyelids. She was sick of drug induced sleep. It may as well have been death. It felt the same. The same weak resign, the same slow quieting of the static around her, the same nothingness that waited on the other side of her closed eyelids. 

 

She was tired of dying over and over again. 

 

But what else was there for her? I Love Lucy reruns? Pressing the call button on her bed over and over until someone appeared so she had someone to talk to, or at least to listen to when she could not bring herself to speak? 

 

God she was bored.

 

Midway through her endless loop of self pity and numbness, Erica appeared with a fresh syringe.

 

_ Fine, _ Eve thought.  _ Kill me again. Death is the only thing I have left. _

 

*

 

Eve woke again. Time had passed, surely, but who knew how much. She lifted her head, heavy like a bowling ball, licked at her cracked lips, let her eyes pass slowly over the same room again, the same gray walls, the same faded floral pattern curtain, the same boxy television set tucked into the top right corner, the same closet that perhaps still contained her ripped, bloodied clothes, the same…

 

“Shit,” she exclaimed, her stomach lurching as a new figure sat perched like a cat in the same old green padded chair. 

 

Maybe she was finally dreaming. Because there was no way that Villanelle was actually sitting in her hospital room, watching her with a look so blank she could have been a mannequin made in the likeness of her. She was so still, so unmoving, unblinking. Maybe not quite a dream, Eve decided. But a hallucination for sure. Hospitals and madness seemed to go hand in hand, as proved by the frequency of the screams and moans that bubbled up in the night from the other patients on this floor.

 

“What are you doing here?” Eve asked the apparition of Villanelle, her own voice foreign and hoarse. 

 

Villanelle shrugged as if she genuinely did not know the answer to Eve’s question. Which made sense. Because why would a hallucination talk?

 

Eve rested her head back against her pillow and closed her eyes. If Villanelle was indeed a projection of Eve’s deteriorating mind, then perhaps she would disappear if she closed her eyes long enough. And if she was real, then Eve would still keep her eyes closed anyhow, and wait for Villanelle to finish what she started. 

 

The drugs pulled her down into oblivion with such velocity that she never really got the chance to find out whether her theory was correct or not. 

 

*

 

Morning came unceremoniously. She had lived to see another pointless day. Her doctor appeared early like he always did to poke at her wounds like a kid manhandling his pet.

 

“Ow, fuck you!” Eve snapped at him, like she usually did. He ignored her like he usually did. 

“I’ll order some more scans, but you still should not try to move or get out of bed until the swelling goes down.” 

 

“Like I have any other fucking option,” Eve said, turning her head to look out the window at her lovely view of the AC unit whirring angrily on the roof of the adjoining building.

 

“You know, I don’t appreciate being yelled at like this by someone who won’t even tell us her name.” 

 

“Well I don’t appreciate being shot in the fucking back, but here we are.” 

 

“I’m just trying to help you,” the doctor said with an annoyed sigh.

 

“You can help me by fucking the fuck off you piece of…”

 

“Fine! I’m leaving! Have a nice day,” he said with a sneer, and stormed out.

 

Yes, Eve may have been on the brink of bleeding out when the ambulances had finally arrived in that sunny patch of ruins, but she had at least been of sound mind enough to keep them from knowing her name. And somehow, thankfully, she did not have her ID on her. So she was Jane Doe for now. She liked that. Jane Doe had no connections to the outside world, had no one trying to find her, left no bodies in her wake. She had nothing. A clean slate. If only she was in the proper shape to enjoy it. 

 

*

 

Night came again soon enough. Erica came again to scribble her name on the board and fill Eve with morphine. Eve stared at the green chair, waiting to see if the ghost of Villanelle would appear again. She drifted off for what felt like only a moment to her, and when she jolted awake, Villanelle was there. 

 

Eve was definitely losing her mind.

 

“Goddammit,” she muttered to the same unmoving figure. 

 

Villanelle had different clothes on this time. Last time she was wearing a black dress that was cut sinfully low, wearing the same strawberry blonde wig she had worn when she slit Andrew’s throat. Tonight she wore a black suit, tailored immaculately, hair tucked up into a ridiculous black hat that made her look like something between a cowboy and Eve’s own personal angel of death come to pull her into that final, permanent oblivion. But that didn’t prove she was real. It only proved that Eve was imaginative.

 

“You sleep a lot,” the spectre of Villanelle said.

 

She speaks? But that still proves nothing, Eve thought. She had heard Villanelle’s voice in her ear, whispering, musing, moaning enough to conjure the memory of it and project it onto this drug-induced figure. 

 

But still the sound of her made Eve feel like crying, feel like screaming, feel like laughing, feel like dying. 

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked again to the image of Villanelle, her voice a high pitched, desperate plea to her own mind. 

 

“Why does that woman across the hall scream so much? She is annoying,” Villanelle said simply.

 

“Maybe because she sees people in her room that aren’t there, too.”

 

Villanelle blinked. So she could blink, Eve thought. Interesting. An improvement from the mannequin from yesterday.

 

“You think you’re imagining me?” The vision of Villanelle asked. “Wow, they must have you on some really good shit.”

 

“Ugh, of course I am imagining. If I weren’t, you would have killed me already.”

 

“Is that why you think I’m here?”

 

“No,” Eve concluded. “I think you’re here because whatever broken pieces of my soul are left are trying to torture me as punishment for having ever met you.” 

 

“Hmm,” Villanelle mused. “I always liked the idea of souls existing outside ourselves, like in Pinocchio. You know? Just little bugs you can squash when they get on your nerves,” she said, emphasizing her point by pantomiming stomping on an invisible bug beneath her feet. “There. All gone.” She smiled. 

 

Eve was so damn tired.

 

“Okay. Well. This has been fun. But I’ve had enough of my madness for one night, so I’m going to go to sleep, okay?” 

 

Villanelle scrunched up her face, looking annoyed with Eve, then her face softened, resigned. 

 

“Okay,” she said, and Eve forced her eyes closed, praying silently to whoever might be listening, praying for relief, in whatever form he or she chose. 

 

*

 

“Would you quit poking at me, you son of a bitch?” Eve growled at the doctor. 

 

“Hmm, nope, I can’t. I spent 8 years in school to learn how to poke someone with a professional, deductive hand. And my poking tells me that that wound is probably as big a pain in your ass as you are to me.”

 

“Jackass,” Eve muttered, and then faltered, “Wait, hold on, Dr….whatever the fuck you name is. Um...have you ever heard of patients, uh, seeing things when they have injuries like this?”

 

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

 

“Seeing...what kind of things, exactly?”

 

“You know...things. Things that aren’t there? People...that aren’t there?”

 

“Well,” he said, thinking, “Tell you what. I’ll answer that question...if you tell me your name.”

 

Eve glared at the doctor, at his patchy fucking beard and his pretentious goddamn jacket, and turned away without answering him.

 

“Fine, have it your way,” he said. “Tell the people in your head I said hi.” 

 

If she had the strength to overcome the searing pain that rocketed through her every time she tried to move more than just her head, she would have taken one of the ten pens in his jacket pocket and stabbed him with it. 

 

*

 

She decided that she would sleep through the night to avoid the blonde murderess that haunted her. Even if she could not sleep, she would keep her eyes shut no matter what. 

 

Late into the night she heard the green chair creak. She kept her eyes shut. 

 

_ Fuck no. Fuck this. _

 

The figure in the chair cleared her throat impatiently. Eve kept her eyes shut stubbornly. 

 

“Eve, I can tell you are faking being asleep. I have watched you sleep enough times to know the difference.”

 

“Psycho,” Eve spat at her hallucination, keeping her eyes shut. 

 

“Bitch,” Villanelle replied. 

 

Eve snapped her eyes open. Villanelle was watching her like a hawk, a petulant smile on her face.

 

“Who do you think you are calling a bitch? You fucking shot me.”

 

“You fucking stabbed me!” 

 

“You ruined my life!”   
  


“You broke my heart!” Villanelle screeched at her loudly, and as she did so, Eve’s eyes looked to her door, and she saw Erica walk past, who didn’t even glance over in reaction to Villanelle’s outburst.

 

_ If she were real, the nurse would have reacted. Just calm down,  _ Eve thought.  _ It’s all in your head.  _

 

Even if the threat of tears in Villanelle’s eyes seemed very much real.

 

“I like her,” Villanelle said in response to the nurse passing them. “I caught her pocketing some pills earlier.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“What? I did! I do not blame her if she does. It must be hell working here. I hate hospitals. They all smell like rotting flesh and bleach.” 

 

“Lovely,” Eve replied. “If you hate them so much then why don’t you just leave?” 

 

“Do you still think I am not real?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I am not leaving. I’ll just keep coming back every night until you get over this little...mental breakdown you are having and talk to me like a real person.”

 

“And what exactly would you like me to say to you?”

 

Villanelle seemed to think on Eve’s question for a moment.

 

“Well, a thank you would be nice.”

 

Eve laughed. Really laughed. So much that it sent shocks of pain from her gunshot wound up her back and around her stomach, but she continued to laugh nonetheless.

 

“You...you want a thank you?” she said, wiping a tear from her eye that had formed from her manic laughter.

 

“Yes! Who do you think swiped your wallet so the medics would not be able to identify you?” 

 

_ That’s a convenient little twist, Eve, _ Eve thought to herself.  _ Fill in the gaps of your memory with her. Do you realize how fucked up it is to imagine that the woman who tried to kill you would come back to pick your pocket and then expect a thank you for it? Even the real Villanelle wouldn’t say anything that crazy.   _

 

“Let me guess, you wanted my identity a secret to keep me safe.”

 

“Well, yes, obviously, Eve,” Villanelle spat. “You killed my squash-headed handler. People will be looking for you.”

 

“You found me easily enough.” 

 

“Well, yes, I am very clever.” 

 

Eve has to admit that her projection of Villanelle certainly is chatty tonight. As well as ridiculous, dressed in a jumper the most sickening shade of pink she could imagine. 

 

“Well are you clever enough to pick up on the fact that I don’t want to talk to you right now? So...like...fuck off.” 

 

Villanelle sat with her feet tucked up onto the edge of the chair, her knees just below her chin, chewing on her thumbnail idly, watching Eve, possibly deciding what to do next. 

 

“Okay,” Villanelle said abruptly, and got up. “See you tomorrow,” she said, and walked out the door and out of Eve’s consciousness like some kind of fucked up Ghost of Murderer’s Past.

 

Either Eve had totally lost her mind or she was in real trouble...again.

 

*

 

When the day nurse came to relieve Erica, Eve denied a fresh shot of morphine. She certainly couldn’t figure out if she was going insane or not if she kept letting them pump her full of high dose opioids. Besides, she felt a sudden need to feel all the pain she was in, to feel what Villanelle had done to her, instead of drowning it away. 

 

“How, um, how long is this going to take?” she asked the new nurse, a girl name Tiffany, who dotted the ‘i’ with a flower, because the day shift nurses were all the same brand of obnoxious, apparently. 

 

“What, your vitals? Just another minute.”

 

“No. Uh, how long until I’m healed, you know? Until I can leave?”

 

Tiffany’s permanent smile wavered for a moment. She sat down on the edge of Eve’s bed like she was about to tell her her puppy got hit by a car. Eve wanted so badly to kick her off of it. 

 

“Ms...uh, well, Jane, I guess. You were shot in the back.”

 

“No,” Eve said with a drawn out tone dripping with sarcasm. “Really?”

 

Tiffany winced at Eve’s outburst. 

 

“I know it’s frustrating. But you have to understand that the bullet got dangerously close to your spine. You’re in a very precarious position right now. If you do anything to agitate the wound, with as swollen as it is, you could risk doing permanent damage. You could even become paralyzed if things go wrong. So for now, until we see some progress, we just have to keep you comfortable, and above all else, as still as possible.” Her face switched back into the cheery smile. “But the good news is it didn’t do any major damage to your organs, so, yay!”

 

Eve glared at her. 

 

“Yay!” she mocked back, and resisted the urge to throw her cup of ice at Tiffany’s head.

 

*

 

Maybe giving up the morphine wasn’t a good idea. By noon she was in absolute agony. By sundown she was in so much pain that she thought she was going to go full circle and start hallucinating all over again. But this was better. It was. Her pain motivated her. It reminded her of why she was here, of how wrecked her life had become, and reminded her of who had wrecked it and how. It took every ounce of strength that she had to keep still, to keep from writing in pain, from jumping up and running away as if she could outrun the pain, the horrors, the death, all of it. 

 

Her nurses were becoming more and more concerned. They tried to sneak the needle into her drip tube while she wasn’t looking. But she wouldn’t let them. Pain was good. Pain meant she could still feel something. Pain made her feel angry.

 

If her brain conjured up Villanelle again, she would kill her herself.

 

You know, metaphorically. Because it was physically impossible for her to kill a spectre. And it was also impossible for her to get out of bed. 

 

Night came. She waited. And she waited. And no one appeared.  _ She _ didn’t appear. 

 

Yes. Good. Okay. She made her up. She made Villanelle up. It was just a drug induced hallucination. She was going to be okay. Villanelle hadn’t been visiting her. She didn’t know where she was. 

 

This was good.

 

So why was she a little sad? 

 

At some point she nodded off. She couldn’t help it. The pain was exhausting. When she woke, it was still dark. 

 

But she was okay. Villanelle wasn’t here. She had made her up. She-

 

“Oh, fuck me!” Eve groaned, as she saw Villanelle emerge from the bathroom. 

 

Villanelle’s eyes widened, surprised by Eve’s outburst. 

 

“Well hello to you to, Eve. I’d be happy to oblige that request but, well, you kind of look like shit right now. Are you okay?”

 

“No, I’m not. I’ve been rejecting pain meds for the last eighteen hours to prove to myself that I could get you out of my head. And now here you are. Fucking with me. Again.”

 

“Are you serious? You still think I’m not real?” Her eyes widened in judgement at Eve, and she waggled her pointer finger in circles by her temple in a “you’re crazy” fashion. “Well, your hallucination just took a leak in your bathroom, so, debunk that one, ghost hunter.” 

 

She plopped down in the chair dramatically, putting her feet up on the edge of Eve’s bed with a unceremonious ‘thump’. 

 

“Well, screw it then, if you’re gonna show up no matter what I do…”

 

She hit the call button on her bed. 

 

“ _ Yeah?”  _ the nurse’s station responded back crankily through the speaker.

 

“I need pain meds, now.” 

 

_ “Okie doke.”  _

 

A few minutes passed. Eve looked straight ahead, avoiding Villanelle’s gaze, which was constant and unbroken, if not slightly amused. 

 

Erica came into the room, syringe pack and morphine bottle in hand.

 

“Thank God, Jane. I was starting to think we were gonna have to sedate you if you kept rejecting your meds. I-oh, um, who is this?”

 

Eve’s blood went cold. She looked at Erica, then at Villanelle, then back to her nurse.

 

“Wait, you can see her?”

 

With that, Villanelle burst into loud, erratic, uncontrollable laughter. 

 

“I can’t believe you thought I was a ghost!” she said between snorts. “You are fucking crazy.”

 

Eve felt like throwing up. 

 

*

 

“Sorry, I missed the part where you tell me who you are?” the nurse asked again.

 

“Oh, I’m a serial killer,” Villanelle said in a very serious tone.

 

Erica attempted a half laugh, not quite sure how else to respond.

 

“Well, I’m sorry, uh, miss, but visiting hours are over, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

 

Villanelle’s eyes darkened in a way that always meant that trouble was ahead. 

  
“Don’t,” Eve mouthed to her. 

 

“Tell you what,” Villanelle said, her tone unreadable, “you let me stay here, and I won’t drag you by your hair down to the nurses station and make you turn out your pockets and show your superior all the percocet you’ve been stealing. And then, I’ll make you swallow every single one of them and find out just how much of that shit you can handle.”

 

Erica’s eyes went wide, the complete lack of emotion in her tone more terrifying somehow than the threat itself. Without a word, she turned around and left the room. 

 

Villanelle chuckled to herself.

 

“That was fun,” she said, that manic smile Eve knew all too well back on her face.

 

Eve squeezed her eyes shut, somehow still clinging to the idea that if she just kept them closed long enough, Villanelle would disappear. 

 

“Eve? Eve. Listen to me, okay? You’re being, like, really weird.” 

 

Eve’s eyes snapped open.

 

“Are you  _ fucking _ kidding me?” she screeched, the effort of it making her wound ache. The morphine was not working fast enough.

 

“What?” Villanelle said, surprised by her tone. 

 

“What in the goddamn hell are you doing here, Villanelle?” she replied, trying not to yell due to the pain, and landing on a very shrill whisper. “You fucking  _ shot _ me, you tried to  _ kill _ me, and now you’re...what? Making social calls to my fucking  _ hospital _ room? Why? Wh-why, why are you doing this? Huh? Tell my why!” 

 

“I’m...trying to make you feel better, I guess,” Villanelle said with an uneasy shrug of her shoulders. 

 

“You know what would make me feel better? Huh? If I hadn’t had a fucking bullet rip through my insides.” 

 

“I know! Hurts, doesn’t it? Being stabbed fucking hurt, too.” 

 

“So is that how you see this? Eye for an eye? As if the two things were the same in any way whatsoever?”

 

Villanelle frowned at Eve, and sat down again in her chair with a plop, making her puffy blue dress flutter from the effort. Her outfits were getting more and more ridiculous every day. 

 

“Actually, no. See, you stabbed me for no good reason.” 

 

Eve was so frustrated she felt like crying. And in the midst of all the emotions that were flooding her at once, as well as the familiar haze of the morphine, she was also trying to calculate how likely it was that Villanelle was going to kill her.

 

“I stabbed you because I was angry at you for killing my friend. Because you had killed so many people and I couldn’t get you to stop. Because I was afraid of you and what you would do if I didn’t kill you.  _ You _ shot  _ me _ because I fucking  _ rejected _ you. Those are in no way comparable. And fuck you and your fucked up brain for trying to equate the two.”

 

The ever present smirk on Villanelle’s face dropped for a second, into a complete void, her eyes flickering with that terrible darkness.

 

“You and I were a team,” Villanelle said slowly. “We cared about each other. We killed for each other. I was ready to give up everything for you. And I did. I gave up my job, my happiness, everything. For you. And you walked away from me as if I were nothing. You broke my heart, Eve. And despite everything, even though I want nothing more than to forget I ever met you, I am here. Watching over you. Making sure no one finds out you are here while you are still vulnerable. Making sure you are safe. And still you talk to me like I am dirt. Like I am nothing. Do not do that. It is frustrating, Eve.” 

 

Villanelle took a shaky, calming breath.

 

“I will admit that what I did to you was not okay,” Villanelle continued “It was a sloppy shot. I did not expect you to end up in this bad of shape. But I am trying to make up for it. Does that not count for anything?” 

 

Eve looked her dead in the eye.

 

“No.”

 

“Fuck you,” Villanelle said coldly.

 

“Fuck you!” Eve hurled back. 

 

“Ugh, God!” Villanelle stood up abruptly. “You are so-ugh!” 

 

Villanelle spiraled into a language that Eve did not recognize, talking herself down incoherently from whatever emotional cliff she was on.

 

“Fine,” Villanelle finally said, switching back to English. “Keep being mad at me, if it makes you feel better. But I am still going to be here for you, because you need me right now. Now, it is getting late, and I have to go. Take care of yourself until I am back.”

 

Eve wanted to ignore her and watch her writhe in frustration from her lack of acknowledgement of her little speech, but she was curious.

 

“Where are you going?” she asked. 

 

“To figure out how to get your husband out of jail.”

 

“Wait, what? Why is he in jail?”

 

Villanelle seemed reluctant to respond.

 

“Because,” she finally said, “I killed that whiny little girlfriend of his, and they think he did it.”

 

Eve’s eyes grew wide at the realization of this fresh horror Villanelle had enacted upon her, and now Niko’s, life.

 

“Don’t worry,” she said nonchalantly as she made her way to the door. “I’m handling it.” 

 

And then she was gone. 

 

_ Oh God _ , Eve thought.  _ Oh. God. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, I'm tess and I'm a hopeless mess after s2. Honestly I dunno where I'm gonna take this story. Like, at all. Smut? Slowburn? Murder? who knows. But hyperfixation waits for no bitch to plot her shit out, so here we are :D  
> I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS SHOW, OKAY?? A LOT.  
> (come yell at me about this show or this story on my tumblr @ schatzietess. Or send me posts about Jodie comer cuz im thirsty as hell for v obvious reasons).  
> Thank you for reading! I have really missed having a fandom to be excited about enough to churn out 12 pages of fic in a day for...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm still trash, and I still have no idea where this is going. Some semblance of plot will show itself at some point, I'm sure :)

It’s not that she was eagerly awaiting Villanelle’s return.

 

She wasn’t, dammit.

 

But when her last words to Eve were essentially “I killed your husband’s girlfriend and now he’s in jail for it”, she couldn’t help but want an update as soon as possible.

 

Poor Niko. How could he have ever seen this coming? A couple of years ago, his wife was a bright, mild-mannered, if not slightly morbid, MI5 agent who thought that he, that they, were enough. Now…

 

That poor girl. What was her name? Why couldn’t Eve remember it? She was dead for God’s sake. What had Villanelle done to her? Had the girl cried? Screamed? Melted into a puddle of defeat beneath Villanelle’s ruthless grip? 

 

Eve shook off the thought. She didn’t want to think about death. All it did was make her remember Raymond. The less painkillers she took, the more he had begun to haunt her. It was like there was a projector playing his death before her eyes over and over. The way he pleaded with her, the way his eyes brightened with the first blow, a shock in his mind fighting, willing to continue living, and the way they went dark with the last chop of that cursed axe. It made her remember the look of manic glee on Villanelle’s face as she was spattered with blood, and how Eve had almost wanted to smile at it herself. At the wreckage she had made.

 

Eve needed help. Her brain was all wrong. God, what was she becoming? Maybe she should just lurch herself out of the bed, fall onto the floor, find something to stab into her wound, anything to make the damage permanent. Maybe if she could never walk again, she wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone anymore.

 

But Villanelle still would. Always. Until she was dead herself. So what did that make Eve? Villanelle’s handler? Her lion tamer? Her partner? Her…

 

_ Stop it, Eve.  _

 

She needed to find some way to regain control. Sitting in this bed, helpless, letting Villanelle run around loose under the guise of ‘fixing’ the problems that she created in the first place, Eve couldn’t let it continue. And besides, how the fuck do you ‘fix’ anything she’s done? She was the superpower dropping bombs on Eve’s life and then handing out bandaids to anyone who was still left standing. 

 

Why did evil have to wear such a pretty face?

 

She had to tell the hospital staff who she was. Let MI6 find her, contain the damage before it grew any further out of control. It didn’t matter what happened to her as a result. She had to do the right thing.

 

It was on the tip of her tongue when the doctor arrived. But what he said to her when he arrived distracted her away from her plan. 

 

“Well, good news, Ms. Jane Doe. You are starting to show improvement. It’s strange. Like something in you was jump started into wanting to live again.” 

 

Eve’s heart fluttered, stupid useless organ that it was. 

 

“We can start physical therapy as soon as tomorrow.” 

 

“Physical therapy? Are you serious? Don’t you realize that I just want to get the hell out of here?”

 

“And I want rid of you, trust me. Everything about your case has been challenging. Your frustrating lack of identity, your attitude, the anonymous benefactor who has been footing the bill for your care, as well as essentially paying off the hospital to keep us from going to the police about it…”

 

“Wait, what benefactor? Who is it?”

 

The doctor blinked at her, resigned. 

 

“What part of anonymous do you not understand?”

 

_ Jackass _ . 

 

“Truly,” he continued, “I want you out of here. But I still operate under a code of ethics, and I can’t just let you leave here without first being sure that your body is healed enough to allow you an open range of mobility without causing any regressive damage.” 

 

“And if I decide to go against your advice and leave anyway?” 

 

The doctor raised an eyebrow at her, challenging her.

 

“Then I call the police and tell them to come do a full investigation on you.”

 

_ This would be the part where you tell him to go ahead and call, Eve. Tell them come, arrest you, find Villanelle, throw you both in a cell so you can never hurt anyone again. Go ahead, Eve. Tell him. _

 

_ Any time now... _

 

_ Fuck. _

 

“Alright. Tomorrow then,” she said, furious with herself. 

 

*

 

Some time around noon, a delivery man arrived. And then another. And another. Each of them carrying dozen after dozen of roses that were black, blue, white, and coral. They slowly turned her room into a damn florists shop, eventually running out of counter space and just littering the vases of them on the ground unceremoniously. The last of them came with a card.

 

_ “Sorry, baby. Would have had these brought to you sooner, but I could not find a shop that wasn’t run by incompetent idiots. See you soon. _

_ -V-” _

 

The scent of the roses became so strong it made Eve nauseous. God, she was going to kill her.

 

*

  
  


Night came again, and Eve became more and more anxious with every passing minute. Was Niko okay? Was he still in prison? Would he ever be able to move on with his life after everything that had been done to him? 

 

Was anyone ever going to clear these damn roses out of her room? 

 

Eve needed to get out of this bed. On her own. Not with the help of nurses for once. She was a grown ass woman, for God’s sake. She just wanted to be able to go to the bathroom by herself. 

 

_ Fuck it.  _

 

Eve slowly, tentatively, moved to sit up in the bed, and hissed in pain, laying back again.

 

“Oh, come on you big baby,” she scolded herself, and tried again. 

 

She moved her legs, inch by inch, pushing past the pain with rapid breaths pushed through curled lips. 

 

“Come on, come on, come on,” she pushed herself, shifting her midsection, turning towards the right side of the bed, and slowly, too slowly, lowered her feet to the floor.

 

“Okay!” she exclaimed excitedly, “Now just...get up. Let’s go, Eve. You got this.” 

 

She looked to her wheeled pole holding her IV bag, untangling it from the bed, and gripped it for support. Sitting like this sent shots of pain up and down her back and her right leg, motivating herself up and off of the bed so she could straighten up again and relieve the pressure on her wound. 

 

Eve sighed in relief, looking down at the robin’s egg blue hospital socks on her feet. She was standing. She was standing! On her own! She was so happy she could have cried. 

 

Alright. Now to try and walk. She started off by sliding her feet an inch forward, one at a time, waddling at a painfully slow pace away from the bed like a crippled penguin. It was probably a pathetic sight, but to her, it was the most freedom she had felt since she felt the bullet rocketing through her stomach, the blinding shock of it like an explosion that started from within her blackened soul and radiated out, ready to wipe out anything it came in contact with. 

 

Within a few of these fist tentative steps, she became frustrated at the mess of rose bouquets on the floor, impossible obstacles between her and the sweet freedom of peeing independently. Eve went to push one aside with her foot, but it only toppled over, the top heavy flowers pulling it down, cracking the vase into two pieces and sending water rushing out onto the floor to be soaked up by her old lady socks.

 

“For fuck’s sake,” she grumbled to herself, and reached down to pick them up.

 

“Ow, ow, OW!” she groaned, trying not to yell out in pain out of fear of alerting one of the nurses of her renegade plan. 

 

Eve managed to grab the roses, forcing past the searing pain in her stomach, brushed the broken glass aside, and picking up the roses, this particular arrangement all black and white. One of the thorns on them pricked her palm as she gripped it with too much force. She straightened again, feeling so elated by being out of the bed that she barely noticed the pain anymore, and observed her palm as blood pulsed out of the thorn puncture, trickling slowly down her hand, and falling in slow, purposeful drops onto the floor, mingling with the spilt water, swirling with the clear crystalline until a pinkish spiral formed in it, the color bleeding out farther and farther, transfixing Eve. She didn’t even notice a shadow appear, that blocked the fluorescent glare of the hallway. 

 

“Look at you!” an achingly familiar voice exclaimed. “You’re up! I’m so proud of you!” 

 

Eve’s eyes shot up to meet Villanelle’s, and before she really thought about what she was doing, she sent the roses rocketing towards Villanelle’s head. Eve’s throw came up short, and smacked the girl in the chest, falling to the floor at her feet unceremoniously. 

 

“I see you got the flowers,” she said, amused.

 

“Yeah. How very subtle of you.”

 

Villanelle smiled, then seemed to really see Eve and what she was trying to do. Eve had noticed this look more than once, the falling of her face, as if she first saw her fantasy of Eve, and then that fell away, revealing the reality of the woman in front of her. 

 

“Do you...need help?”

 

“No,” Eve spat, “I’m fine.”

 

Eve started up her shuffling again, stubborn determination on her face as she moved painfully slowly towards the bathroom door. Villanelle seemed to be straining to hold in a laugh as she watched her ridiculous confidante try to retain some shred of dignity. 

 

That was, until Eve slipped on a jello cup she had tossed on the floor in a pathetic act of defiance against a cheeky orderly, and Villanelle rushed to catch Eve before she fell. 

 

“Fuck! Dammit!” Eve cursed as she felt Villanelle’s firm grip restabilize her, one hand on her elbow, the other on the un-shot side of her back. Like every other time the assassin had ever touched her, she felt the urge to sink into it, to savor it. Her hands were always the same impossible combination of soft and frighteningly powerful. 

 

Eve shook the urge from her mind and shrugged Villanelle off. Villanelle pulled her hands away from her as if they had been burned.

 

“God, do you know how much it hurts when you flinch away from me like that?”

 

“About as much as a gunshot?” Eve commented bitterly, resuming the new signature Polastri Shuffle. 

 

She made it to the bathroom door with about as much grace as a drunk toddler, pretending not to notice that Villanelle still hovered behind her, waiting to catch her if she were to stumble again. She resented the gesture, as much as her continued soft concern made Eve ache. 

 

“Shut the door for me, would you?” she asked Villanelle, tugging her fluid stand in with her and avoiding the girl’s gaze as she shut the door behind Eve with a soft click. 

 

Eve let out a shuddering sigh, and she thought she heard it mirrored in Villanelle’s own breath from the other side of the door. 

 

_ Just...fuck. Fuck everything.  _

 

Luckily, hospital bathrooms are usually equipped with a plethora of bars and handholds around the toilets, and she managed to lower herself onto the seat with only minor agony. She wondered if Villanelle was still on the other side of the door. 

 

“I, um. I have some news for you,” Villanelle stated, her voice wavering and uncertain.

 

Of course she was still there. But she now had piqued Eve’s interest. 

 

“Oh? What’s that?”

 

_ How was Niko? Was he okay? How much does he hate me? How much does he hate _ you? 

 

“Well, your husband is out of prison.”

 

Eve’s head fell back so hard in sheer relief that it smacked against the cold plaster wall behind her, making her curse softly and rub the back of her head. 

 

“What did you have to do?” Eve asked.

 

“Me? Nothing. He was already gone when I went to go look into it. See, they never really had a strong case to begin with. The girl had my prints all over her but, you know, when they went to run them through a database…”

 

“They were denied access to the MI6 database?”

 

She could almost feel Villanelle nod in agreement. 

 

“And since he had been locked in the storage unit with her corpse and they couldn’t pin it on anyone else…”

 

“Wait, what?” Eve snapped, “You locked him in a storage unit with her  _ corpse _ ?” 

 

“Well I didn’t have another option besides letting him catch up to me, now did I?” 

 

“Ugh, that poor bastard. You’re just...you’re a...fucking...asshole.” 

 

“The point is he is fine. Okay? So like, chill out about it.” 

 

“Fine is a relative term that most people you come into contact don’t have the luxury of having.” Eve softened her tone, knowing that if she kept pushing Villanelle she would either leave or lash out. And neither option was what she wanted at the moment, as stupid as that sounded. “Why did you even make the effort to check on him?” 

 

Eve figured that both of them were having this conversation while actively pretending not to here Eve pee.

 

“Because I thought it would make you feel better.”

 

“Why did you even tell me what had happened to him in the first place? It’s not like I have any contact with the outside world while I’m hiding out like this.”

 

“Because apparently you get really  _ mad _ at me when I don’t tell you things,” Villanelle replied frustratedly.

 

Eve took a long slow breath, pushing past the urge to yell at her all over again. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. And besides, it almost made her feel bad to be angry at Villanelle when she was being so, well, almost sweet to her. 

 

Jesus, would Villanelle ever be able to do something so awful that Eve would finally be able to hate her permanently? 

 

Eve took her time washing up, splashing her face with water, buying herself a few more minutes before she inevitably had to leave the bathroom and face Villanelle again. 

 

“Did you fall in?” an impatient Villanelle finally asked from the other side of the door.

 

“Shut up,” Eve replied, and opened the door as slowly as she could stand. 

 

Villanelle was waiting for her with a ridiculous and exaggerated pouting face. Eve rolled her eyes, shuffling past her. 

 

Eve eyed the bed as if it were an old nemesis, come to battle with her once again. The idea of flopping herself back into it was a lot more daunting than pulling herself up out of it had been. 

 

“You don’t have to get back into that, you know,” Villanelle said quietly.

 

“What?”

 

“Well, you know, if you’re up to it, I could just bust you out of here.”

 

“What?” Eve snapped. “No!”

 

“Why not?”

 

_ Why not?  _ Eve thought. What really was stopping her? 

 

_ Oh not this shit again, Eve. Come on.  _

 

“And where would we go? Alaska?” she said coldly.

 

“Do not mock me about that, Eve. We would both be a lot better off if you had gone along with that plan.” 

 

“No, we really would not have,” Eve replied, and clumsily dropped her own half useless body into the bed, shooing Villanelle off as she attempted to help her. 

 

It had fucking  _ hurt _ , but she willed her face not to show it. 

 

“And why’s that?” Villanelle asked, eyeing the chair she had made herself so familiar with, only to choose to sit on the edge of Eve’s bed instead. 

 

“Because you had built up that little ‘run away with me’ scenario in your head so much that nothing I would have ever said or done would have fit into it. We would have always ended up here.” 

 

Eve tilted her head, considering Eve, while carefully maintaining her mask of indifference so Eve could not see how her words affected Villanelle.

 

“You came up with that answer quick. I guess that means I was right.”

 

“About what?” Eve asked.

 

“That you’ve been thinking about it too. About what could have been.”

 

Eve sighed, turning away from Villanelle, wishing she could deny it. Because, yeah, when you end up in the hospital with a bullet hole in your gut, you can’t help but wonder if it would have been better to go along with what your shooter had wanted you to do in the first place. 

 

“God, why did you come back to me?” Eve asked.

 

“Ugh, why!” Villanelle yelled, standing suddenly. “Why, why, why, why, why! Everything with you is ‘why?’! Why do I do this, why do I do that? You are exhausting! What do you want me to do, start a little feelings journal detailing my thought process behind every choice I make? ‘Dear diary, this morning I ate Trix cereal for breakfast because it symbolized how losing my family robbed me of a normal childhood.’ God, barf.” 

 

Eve rolled her eyes at Villanelle’s outburst. Although, in all honesty, Villanelle journaling her daily thought process would be insightful... 

 

“Actually I thought you might say that it was because you are sorry for what you did to me.” 

 

Villanelle scoffed, her shoulders stiffening as she locked her eyes on the shining of the moon out of Eve’s window, avoiding her gaze. 

 

“Are you?” Eve pressed. 

 

Villanelle turned, slowly, crouching down so that her face hovered just above Eve’s. Eve held her breath.

 

“No,” Villanelle said, and then smiled ruthlessly. 

 

Eve bristled. 

 

“Then get out,” she said. 

 

“Or what?” Villanelle pressed, still far to close for Eve to take, still smiling.

 

“Get. OUT,” Eve barked, making Villanelle only slightly startled.

 

She stared her down for a moment, seeming to weigh her options. 

 

“Fine,” she said, pulling herself away from Eve’s bedside and heading for the door. Before she turned, she looked back at Eve. “I’m not invulnerable, you know. I was where you are now, after you stabbed me. And it was lonely. The only thing that got me through it at first was having someone to talk to. So. I wanted to make sure you had that. Even if you did not care enough about me to do the same.”

 

She turned again to leave Eve alone in her room.

 

“Villanelle?” Eve called out desperately despite herself.

 

She stopped, eyes staying on the doorway.

 

“I looked for you. After it happened. I wanted to...I tried to find you.” 

 

Villanelle didn’t move. 

 

“You didn’t try hard enough,” she said, and walked away, leaving nothing behind but the lingering scent of her perfume.

 

And, of course, the fifty million dozen roses. 

 

*

 

Eve somehow survived her first day of physical therapy. And it was exhausting. And she had cursed out just about every staff member in ear shot because of it. And she was sore, and tired.

 

And Villanelle did not come to see her.

 

That somehow hurt worst of all.

 

But she understood why. She found that she could understand a lot of what Villanelle did, if she really thought about it. And that thought was both terrifying and comforting at the same time.

 

Villanelle was sick of chasing after her only to be turned down again. She wanted it to be her turn to be pursued again. 

 

And God help her, Eve knew Villanelle’s phone number by heart, and by eight in the morning, after no sign of Villanelle, Eve picked up the clunky old phone in her room, and made the call.

 

The ringing on the other end of the line stopped after three rings, there was a click, and a breath, but Villanelle said nothing. She was listening, waiting.

 

“The person you were able to talk to, it was that kid who’s neck you snapped, wasn’t it?” 

 

There was a pause.

 

“Yes.” 

 

Eve resisted the urge to call her an evil bitch. She knew she would just hang up on her if she did. 

 

“What did you have for breakfast?” Eve asked.

 

Villanelle laughed into the receiver.

 

“A bran muffin.” 

 

“Ugh, why?” Eve asked.

 

“Because I figured it would be so boring that you wouldn’t be able to find some hidden metaphor in it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the time I had one of my ovaries ripped out and just really wanted to be able to pee without supervision.   
> Also by my casually looking up the meaning of colors of flowers, and then getting really pissed at the writers for being clever little jerks (see: that ep with the flowers at Eve's door)
> 
> Anyway, you guys have been supportive as fuck about this fic so far, and I love you all so much for that. Seriously. SO. MUCH. Have a great rest of your weekend, I'm gonna go distract myself with bonfires and cheap beer until a new chapter idea pops into my head. 
> 
> (also compulsory need to tell you to come yell @ me about this damn show thats ruining my life on my tumblr @ schatzietess. k thx)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve is a reckless mess. But also what else is new

Eve had come to a conclusion. 

 

And it was ‘fuck this hospital’.

 

She was gonna bust herself out. How, she didn’t know. The easy solution would be to call Villanelle. But that would just negate any of the progress the two of them might have made, woul dn’t it? Villanelle had wanted Eve to be permantently tangled into her life, on her terms. She wanted Eve to want her, to need her, to rely on her, to kill for her, to leave everything she knew for her. And Eve couldn’t live like that. She had to admit to herself, albeit bitterly, that she was not ready to exist without Villanelle in her life. But if she couldn’t rid herself of Villanelle, she at least needed to see Eve as who she was, not as who she wanted her to be. 

 

And calling Villanelle up after her bloodbath of a hissy fit like “I know I rejected your little fantasy scenario of you saving me and us running away together, but also I kind of need you to come save me so that we can kind of, sort of, run away together.”

 

And besides. Eve was not helpless. She was a strong fucking woman. She had made a group of powerful quasi-terrorists so uneasy about her that they had sent someone to kill her. She had hunted Villanelle, one of the most dangerous people alive, across the world, and stabbed her just because she told her not to. She had fucking killed a guy with an  _ axe _ . She had survived being shot in the back. If anyone was capable of an escape plan right now, it was her. 

 

Eve was starting to feel like herself again. She was beginning to feel awake, clear headed, and ready to fuck shit up. Screw whoever that person was that just laid around in a hospital bed, moping and groaning about how much her life sucked. She didn’t need her anymore.

 

She needed a plan. 

 

*

 

Eve’s first thought was that it would be easier for her to sneak out at night. But that was no good. It was too quiet at night, the staff was so used to the quiet, to the patients being asleep and not up and moving around. Eve had seen for herself how quick they would swoop in if they saw one of the more deranged patients attempting to sneak out of their room. And besides, all of the exit doors automatically locked at night, and could only be opened with an employee key card

 

No, the bustle of the day time was better. Visitors could come and go as they pleased with no question. But Eve would still need to move fast. There would only be a small window of time between vitals checks from the nurses for her to slip out of her room, find some clothes to wear, and get the hell out of there before anyone had noticed she had even left. 

 

The biggest trick would be to avoid the nurses on her floor, who all knew her name and face by now. Or maybe she was going about this wrong. Maybe avoidance wasn’t the right tactic…

 

At 11:30 AM, the nurse Tiffany came into Eve’s room. Tiffany was sweet, trusting, and still seemed to believe that people were inherently good. A sucker was exactly what Eve needed. And the timing was perfect. Usually around this time of day, all the staff would chatter to each other about was what they were going to have for lunch. No one was really focusing much on their patients or what they were doing, just on their own hunger and longing for a much needed break. 

  
It was now or never. 

 

“Hey, uh, Tiff?” Eve asked, her voice sickening sweet, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. 

 

“Hmm?” Tiffany replied while clacking away on the mounted computer she had rolled into the room with her.

 

“I...I hate to be a bother. But...I think I lost one of my earrings. I wouldn’t even make a fuss about it, but,” she feigned a break in emotion, “But they were my late grandmother’s. I think it probably just fell under the bed. I would look myself but, you know, it really hurts to bend down right now. Would you mind?”

 

“Oh! Sure I can. Here, let me look.”

 

Tiffany walked towards the bed. Eve had had all of the dozens of roses removed from her room, except for one, that was sitting on a small table next to her. Tiffany bent down next to her to look under the bed for the imaginary earring. Eve only hesitated for a moment. 

 

And then she cracked the flower vase over the nurse’s head, rendering her unconscious. 

 

She let out a calming breath, and quickly removed herself from the bed. Eve’s adrenaline was pumping, making the the pain in her back and stomach almost unnoticeable as she moved to close the curtain around the bed, and looked down at Tiffany. 

 

She was slimmer than Eve was. But the scrubs she wore fit her loosely. It should work. Eve began to pull the clothes off of the limp nurse, a bit more difficult of a task than she had guessed. After finally wriggling the last pant leg past the girl’s ankle, Eve looked at the girl’s shoes, compared them to her own feet, and shrugged, pulling them off as well. She tugged the scrub shirt onto herself carefully, trying her best not to bump her wounds, which hid behind a small patch of taped on gauze. Now dressed, she rifled through the pants pockets of the stolen scrubs. There was a five dollar bill in the top right pocket. Eve rolled her eyes.

 

“Well that’s not very helpful, now, is it?” she muttered to the nurse on the floor.

 

Eve stuck one of her feet into one of the shoes. They were small. Eve cursed to herself, knowing that she wouldn’t get very far in hospital socks, and forced her feet into the shoes anyhow, her heels not quite able to be squished into them, so she would have to walk on her tippy toes. She looked down at Tiffany again, now half naked and pushed slightly under the bed, and bent down to pluck the scrunchie out of her hair. When she did, she felt a dampness, and pulled her hand away to see a small amount of blood. The glass must have cut her head. 

 

But Eve didn’t have time to worry about that. She just wiped the blood on her hand off onto the pillow, pulled her hair up into a bun, and left girl there, unconscious and bleeding, as she slipped out of the room. Before she turned to walk around the corner and down the hall, she paused, looking into the room again. 

 

If Villanelle came to see her tonight, Eve would be gone. And she would have no idea where she had went. 

 

Would she be angry with her? 

 

*

 

Before she slipped into the stairwell, she paused at a utility closet on her right, and decided to let herself in. She found packages of gauze, bandages, and sterilization pads. She pocketed a handful of each, and took a long moment to look around at the rest of the supplies, wondering what else she could steal. 

 

_ There’s no time for that, come on.  _

 

Eve slipped back out of the closet, trying to look as casual as possible, like she belonged there. On her walk to the stairwell, which was clumsy and awkward in the too small shoes, she passed by several nurses and orderlies, giving each of them a friendly nod but trying not to look them in the eye for too long in case anyone were to recognize her. At least she thought she was smiling, though the pain of walking so much so fast was starting to get to her, and despite the fact that she knew that she was least likely to be spotted in the stairwell versus the elevator, she didn’t think she would be able to handle five flights of stairs without wanting to collapse. Especially in those damn shoes.

 

With a frantic sigh, Eve approached the elevators, pushed the ‘down’ button, and waited, her fingertips thrumming against her sides impatiently. After what felt like an eternity, the elevator doors finally opened, and she saw a young man standing in it, distracted by his cell phone. She thought about waiting for the next one, but that would seem suspicious, so she stepped in and pressed the button for the lobby. 

 

She looked the young man up and down, noticed his plain clothes, figuring that he was here visiting someone, and then more importantly, she noticed his shoes. They were closer to her size, and they looked damn comfortable. 

 

“Hey,” she said to the man. “Hey.”

 

He looked up from his screen, and raised a confused eyebrow.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I need your shoes.” 

 

He gawked at Eve.

 

“What?”

 

“Your shoes. I need them.”

 

“Fuck off, lady,” he said, and diverted his attention back to his phone.

 

Eve rolled her eyes, and then threw her elbow into the man’s chest, pinning him to the wall.

 

“Listen you little shit. I save people’s lives for a living. I just finished an 18 hour shift and my shoes are in the trash, covered in the blood of a little boy who was struck by a driver who was fucking texting like you are now. So give me your fucking shoes before I shove that fucking phone down your throat.”

 

If the man had been thinking clearly, he would have realize that Eve was not in any shape to follow through with her threat, he would have seen that just the effort of hitting him took a toll on her, made her wince in pain. But he was so startled by her outburst that he simply complied, stepping out of his sneakers and pushing them towards her.

 

“Thank you,” she said with a smile, and tossed the nurses shoes aside into the corner of the elevator, and slipped his on.

 

_ Much better. _

 

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and she exited it towards the main entry doors, leaving the man stunned and confused. In a moment, she was outside.

 

She had fucking pulled it off. 

 

Of course she did, she was Eve Polastri, goddammit! 

 

She was so pleased with herself she didn’t even notice the older woman heading straight for her until the two of them collided, sending the woman’s purse clattering to the ground, and sending shooting pains up and down Eve’s back.

 

“Ow! What the fuck, lady?” Eve exclaimed. 

 

“Oh, God. I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m so sorry,” the woman said in a panicky voice, struggling through the English language she did not seem too familiar with, “I did not  see you. I am distracted my…” her voice broke, “my husband is so sick. I do not know what’s going to happen to him. I…”

 

_ Ugh, Jesus,  _ Eve thought to herself, but then tried to remember her humanity long enough to reach down to help the woman gather her things that had spilled out of her purse. Then she spotted the woman’s wallet, lying right by Eve’s foot, and before she could inwardly scold herself for it, she had pocketed it. 

 

“Listen, it’s gonna be fine, okay?” she said, consoling the woman as she helped her to her feet. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

 

“But what about my husband!” the woman shrilled, clearly spiraling into a hysterical fit.

 

“Well how should I know, he’s not my patient, okay?” she snapped, and walked away from her towards her own freedom.

 

When she rounded the block, she heard a muffled alarm sound from the hospital. The city was bustling during a busy lunch hour. A cab drove towards her, and she hailed it down, climbed into the backseat as gingerly as she could with her wounds sore and aching, and pulled the woman’s wallet from her pocket, counting what would be roughly $300 and a few credit cards, and rested her head back against the seat with a sigh. 

 

The cab driver spoke, but she could not understand him.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Where to?” he said in English. 

 

“Uh,” she replied, thinking. “Well, I need to do some clothes shopping. Know a place?” 

 

He nodded silently, and the cab drove off.

 

She wondered to herself, on a scale of one to ten, just how fucked her morals had been as a whole during her escape. A six, maybe? Yeah, that sounded about right.

 

*

 

She was dropped off at a small boutique. She took her time looking at all the clothes, touching the fabrics, wondering what the new Eve wears. Each outfit became a different identity in her mind. A gray silk button down with a pencil skirt? She would find a job as a secretary to someone...someone important. Charm them into seeing her as invaluable. Attend cocktail parties with CEO’s, make a good living, and still find it all more boring than she could handle. The pink blouse and black pants? She would be a traveling salesman of...makeup or something. Knock on the doors of bored stay at home moms, convince them that if they wore just the right shade of lipstick, that maybe their marriages would magically become interesting again. 

 

The tan sweater and jeans?

 

Maybe she would go back to England. Find Niko. Somehow convince him, despite everything, that they could still make it work. 

 

And the black dress? With the fabric that was heavenly soft to the touch, with a slit up the leg? She would wear as she hopped into the passenger seat of Villanelle’s car, admire the guns she kept stashed in her glove compartment, and not even think to ask where they were headed…

 

She chose none of them. She chose whatever she managed to grab that didn’t look like it would cling too closely to her bullet wound and cause her discomfort. 

 

She paid for that with one of the credit cards. It didn’t seem too suspicious a charge. A hysterical wife may have just gone to a shop near the hospital to browse, to distract herself from her anguish. 

 

She used the cash to buy a burner phone, a bottle of whiskey, and to book a hotel room, the nearest one she could find, that wasn’t too lavish, too noticeable. She sat on the bathroom counter in the hotel room, cleaned the wound as she cursed to herself in pain and sipped from the bottle, pouring a bit of the spirits onto the gash in her stomach because she saw it in enough movies to think it might do something. 

 

All it did was sting like a bitch.

 

After she cleaned and dressed the wound, she brought the whiskey bottle with her and sat on the bed, resting her head against the headboard, wondering if any of what she had done today had actually happened. 

 

It got late. She drank from the bottle until she felt numb enough that she might be able to sleep.

 

Instead she made a phone call. 

 

There was a pause on the other line. 

 

_ “Eve?” _

 

Eve swallowed past a sudden surge of emotion. She had missed her voice. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

Villanelle chuckled on the other line.

 

_ “You have been busy.”  _

 

Eve laughed herself. She knew. Of course she knew. 

 

“Yeah, I guess I have.” 

 

“ _ Can I ask you something?” _

 

“Sure.”

 

_ “Why didn’t you just ask the hospital to release you from their care? Would have been a lot less...messy.” _

 

Eve blinked.

 

“Because they were going to call the cops if I did.”

 

“Yeah...well, they ended up calling them anyway after you injured that nurse, so…”

 

Eve’s thoughts raced, reconsidering the choices she had made.

 

_ Shit. _

 

“I...I guess I wasn’t thinking. I just got...frustrated, I guess? No, that’s not the right word. I-”

 

_ “Restless?”  _ Villanelle supplemented. 

 

Eve sighed.

 

“That’s it,” she said with resignation. 

 

_ “It’s kind of like withdrawal, isn’t it?”  _ Villanelle mused.  _ “That adrenaline you feel. That rush. And then it’s over. And it goes away. And you just want to do something to feel it again.” _

 

Eve could see Raymond again. She could see the gore, the chunks of flesh, the blood glistening on the edge of her axe. It played on repeat in her mind more than she wanted to admit. And what scared her the most was that she didn’t even feel sick when she thought of it anymore. She felt…

 

Yes. Restless.

 

“Does it ever go away? That...feeling?”

 

There was a pause.

 

_ “I don’t know. I never tried to get rid of it.”  _

 

A natural silence fell between them. It was almost comfortable. 

 

“Where are you?” Villanelle finally asked. 

 

“Uh...a hotel across town. I paid with cash and gave a fake name so...should be alright for tonight. I hope.” 

 

_ “Do you want some company?” _

 

Eve’s eyes fluttered shut, pushing aside feelings she did not want at the moment.

 

“I want to get some sleep.”

 

Villanelle paused. 

 

_ “Okay. Goodnight, Eve.” _

 

“...Goodnight.”

 

It was unspoken, yet somehow felt mutually understood, that they would talk again tomorrow. On the phone or in person, Eve had not yet decided. But for now the potential behind it comforted Eve as she sunk into the mattress and closed her eyes.

 

Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was of the black dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am...typically not a 3 chapters in a week kinda gal. But I had a rare weekend off and I took advantage of it. Back to working 50+ hours a week I go...*sigh*
> 
> I think something is forming here, though. Yeah...stuff is gonna happen. Dunno what kinda stuff...but STUFF. But if anyone remembers can someone remind me what city they were in in the finale so I'm not just staying vague as hell about descriptions cuz my memory is crap? 
> 
> If you feel really compelled to know how the progress of this piece is going, I'll post rambling updates on tumblr when I can ( @ schatzietess)
> 
> Otherwise just, stick around for the show, I guess! As always, your love and feedback is very much cherished and appreciated. 
> 
> Much love, Tess


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft Villanelle, bc that shit fucks me up
> 
> Also HAPPY PRIDE!!!!!!!!

Eve felt like hot garbage the next morning. She felt like she’d been shot in the…

 

_ Oh yeah. _

 

She had pushed herself too much yesterday. Crime was hard work. 

 

But despite the lingering hangover and pain she felt, one thought cut through the fog: What now?

 

Eve rolled over with a groan. This was so...weird. The worst thing that had ever happened to her before a few months ago consisted of a fender bender with a little old lady who forgot her glasses before getting into her car, and losing her wallet on the subway. Now? Huh. Treason, attempted murder,  _ actual _ murder, getting shot, assault, theft…

 

_ Come on, Eve, you’re getting all miserable and mopey again. Get up.  _

 

She shuffled to the bathroom, wincing in pain. God, she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t in pain. It was like when you get a cold and by day four or so you wonder if there will ever come a time that you aren’t fucking stuffed up anymore.

 

“Ugh, gross,” Eve said to herself as she took off the old gauze, cleaned her wounds, and dressed them. She didn’t know how they were supposed to look. She just assumed they were fine. 

 

Eve checked how much cash she had left. It wasn’t much. So what was she gonna do, keep robbing emotionally vulnerable women to get by? It seemed like a rational solution, but not an ethical one. Unless she just found one really rich emotionally vulnerable woman. One really big robbery was a lot better than a bunch of little robberies, right? 

 

_ Oh wait, fuck, I had a wallet at some point. Where did… _

 

_ Oh yeah. Shit.  _

 

She waddled back out into the hotel room and found her phone. It barely rang before it was picked up.

 

_ “Want me to come pick you up for breakfast?”  _ Villanelle asked. 

 

Eve sighed. How was a murderous psychopath also capable of being disarmingly cute? 

 

“Um, actually I wanted to ask you if you still have my wallet.” 

 

_ “Mmhmm. I like your ID. You look so cranky in it. It’s adorable.” _

 

Eve rolled her eyes.

 

“Okay, well, I need it.”

 

_ “For what?” _

 

“What do you mean ‘for what’? I need money.” 

 

_ “Well that’s not possible. All that’s in here are credit cards. And those are probably being monitored for activity.”  _

 

“Villanelle…”

 

_ “Hmm?” _

 

“You and I both know there was cash in that wallet.”

 

_ “Really?”  _ Villanelle replied innocently.  _ “Uh, nope. No. Don’t see any of that in here. Sorry.”  _

 

_ Little shit. _

 

“Can I at least ask what you spent it on?”

 

Villanelle clicked her tongue.

 

_ “Ah...let’s see. There is a really great ice cream place by the Colosseum. And then there was the boat I rented. Really relaxing out on the water, by the way, you should have been there. And the rest…I cannot tell you. It’s a surprise.”  _

 

“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”

 

_ “Oof, so crabby in the morning. Why are you so worried about money anyway?” _

 

Eve wanted to scream.

 

“Because it’s a little useful to have when you’re hiding out in a foreign country.” 

 

Villanelle chuckled softly. 

 

_ “Don’t worry about that. You know I have money.”  _

 

So that was it. She may have told Eve she swiped her wallet to keep her safe, but it was really another way to try and get her back in her control. It’s easy to get your way with someone when they need your help.

 

“I don’t want your help.”

 

_ “Then what do you want, Eve?” _

 

Eve sighed.

 

“I don’t know. To be home, in  _ my _ home, with a glass of wine, some tacky horror film on, in my fluffy socks and pj’s. Without the gunshot wound would be nice, too.” 

 

_ “Hmm, that sounds lovely. Well, go and do that then.” _

 

“Wait, what?” 

 

_ “Go home and put on your fluffy socks, Eve. I am not stopping you. I don’t even know where you are.”  _

 

Eve rubbed her temples, fighting past a bitch of a headache.

 

“I can’t just...go home. You know that. Everything is screwed up. My marriage is a mess, I have to have at least a dozen warrants out for my arrest. Niko would probably kill me if he saw me again, after what you did.” 

 

_ “Hmm. Maybe. But you need money. And you won’t accept my help. I am assuming that you and your husband have a little something stashed away between the two of you. So. If you want it you’re going to have to go home and get it.” _

 

Eve scoffed at the idea of how that conversation would go. “Hi, honey. I know we’re sort of separated right now and I know the assassin I’ve been hanging around with murdered your girlfriend, but I need you to empty out the rainy day fund so I can go back to hiding out from the law and from the shady ass organization said assassin works for. Sound good?”

 

“You...you know I’m not going to do that. Not right now, anyway.” 

 

There was a pause.

 

_ “...So?”  _ Villanelle asked expectantly.

 

“So what?”

 

_ “So do you want me to pick you up for breakfast or not?” _

 

Eve groaned. 

 

“Fine. I’ll text you the address.” 

 

Okay, yes. Eve needed Villanelle right now. As frustrating as that was for her to admit. But it was just for now. She would figure something out and shake off Villanelle’s control over her soon enough.

 

She  _ would _ . 

 

*

 

Twenty minutes later there was a soft knock on her door. Eve felt her heart jump, annoyingly, and she hesitated before getting up to open it, looking at herself in the mirror across from the bed. She could have looked...better. 

 

_ Trying to impress her or something, dumbass?  _ Eve thought bitterly to herself, and crossed the room to open the door. 

 

Villanelle was leaning against the doorframe, trying to look as casual as possible, as if she had dropped by on accident, and hadn’t likely raced to the hotel as fast as she could manage. 

 

Despite the early hour, Villanelle was dressed to the nines. White button up shirt, perfectly fitted, suspenders, black suit jacket she wore slung over her left shoulder, dress shoes probably made by some elusive designer Eve had never even heard of. She had one leg crossed in front of the other in a ‘devil may care’ fashion, brightly colored shopping bags hanging from her right hand, a bright red lollipop in her mouth, staining her lips. Her hair was down, pulled over to one shoulder, her head tilted slightly, considering Eve with a smirk. 

 

“Invite me in, won’t you?” she asked in a mock British accent. 

 

“Why, are you operating under vampire rules now?” Eve asked, and held the door open, allowing Villanelle to step in. 

 

She strode past Eve gracefully, giving the details of the room a quick glance, and dropping the bags on the bed. 

 

“Those are for you,” she said simply, switching back to her native accent, and moved towards Eve’s nightstand, pouring herself a drink from the half drunk whiskey bottle. 

 

Eve’s hands twitched, eager to tear into the bags and see what Villanelle had bought her, but she resisted. 

 

“How, um, how are you?” Eve asked, trying desperately to find some normalcy in their interactions. 

 

Villanelle sat on the bed, looked at Eve, and shrugged. 

 

“Good.”

 

Eve blinked. 

 

“Good? Just good?”

 

“What? What is wrong with that answer? That is a normal answer.” 

 

“Yes but...oh, I don’t know.”

 

Villanelle chuckled. 

 

“Well do you want me to answer the way a normal person would or do you want me to be honest?”

 

“I...I don’t know, actually.” 

 

Villanelle frowned into the plastic cup she had half filled with whiskey. 

 

“Figures.” She drained the glass. “Are you ready to go?” 

 

“Uh. Yeah, I guess,” Eve replied, a little lost as to what to say or do at the moment. 

 

Villanelle quirked an eyebrow upward, looking at Eve.

 

“You’re wearing that?” she asked blankly.

 

Eve sighed. 

 

“Goddamn you,” she said with some vexation, and yanked the bag Villanelle had pulled out of the lineup from her grip, walking to the bathroom as normally as she could manage.

 

Red dress. Simple enough that it could be worn so early in the day, yet elegant. It clung to her breasts in a complementary way, yet the body of it was loose and flowy so it didn’t cling to her wounds. Beneath it in the bag was a compact, some lipstick, and some perfume.

 

_ Damn it,  _ she thought as she admired herself in the mirror.  _ Damn her.  _

 

She appeared reluctantly from the bathroom. Villanelle smiled smugly. 

 

“Much better.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

*

 

They sat at a patio outside of a small cafe. Eve had a tea, Villanelle a coffee. When the waiter asked what they wanted, Villanelle had asked for one of everything. And so, Eve picked at a chocolate croissant while her companion picked from a menagerie of types of carbs, taking small delicate bites from each.

 

She was showing off. Eve knew it. Her actions screamed one point she wanted to convey. And that was “Look at me, Eve. Look how much money I have to spend on all of these things. Look how easy it would be for you to let me take care of you, Eve. You know you want to.” 

 

And the croissant was really fucking good. 

 

“You going to talk or are you going to keep glaring at me?” Villanelle asked.

 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

 

“Have you come up with a plan yet?” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

Villanelle rolled her eyes.

 

“Well that’s boring.”

 

Eve blinked, and then smiled.

 

“Yes. You’re right. It is. So why are you still here? Hanging around me? I’ve been nothing but boring since you put me in the hospital.” 

 

“That’s not true. You suddenly got fun for half a second yesterday when I was not around to see it.” 

 

“That was a mistake. From now on, I plan to keep being boring. So why haven’t you moved on to the next thrill yet?” 

 

“Ugh! Don’t you get it?” Villanelle burst out, throwing a doughnut in her anger. It smacked against another cafe patron’s back, leaving powdered sugar on his jacket. He turned to her, shocked. Villanelle flipped him off as she kept her eyes on Eve. “I don’t have anywhere to go, Eve!” 

 

“What are you talking about? Of course you do.”

 

“No, I don’t. The people I work for, they’re done with me. And I don’t know exactly what that means. At best it means I am on my own, at worst it means they’re going to get rid of me. You know,” she said, taking her butter knife to her throat and pressing down a little too hard as she closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out, pantomiming being dead. “Getting rid of Raymond only bought us some time. Scared them a little bit, hopefully. And I do not know what to do or where to go. They pulled me out of prison, Eve. That job has been all I have known for years now. So...I am trying to figure out what to do next. And I was hoping you would help me, but instead you are being a stubborn asshole.”

 

Eve was still partly sure that this was another manipulation tactic on Villanelle’s part, but she felt bad nonetheless. She kept letting herself forget that there was a time when they both chose this path, together, the one that got them stuck here. They chose each other. And all Eve had done since then was push Villanelle away. 

 

Eve considered Villanelle, watching her face closely, trying to decide if the emotions it displayed were genuine or a mimic of what she imagined looked like earnestness. She couldn’t tell. With a sigh, she reached across the table, and snatched one of the muffins on Villanelle’s plate. 

 

“That was mine!” Villanelle said with false shock. 

 

“Yeah, well, you took my wallet. Call it even,” Eve replied, hiding a smile behind her stolen pastry. 

 

They didn’t speak for a moment, until Villanelle broke the silence.

 

“You’re full of shit, by the way.” 

 

“About what?” 

 

“That you’re going to be boring from now on. That’s a load of shit.”

 

“Well you’re full of shit, too,” Eve retorted.

 

“About what?”

 

“About not knowing where to go. You know exactly where you want to end up. You just want me to think I have a say in the matter.” 

 

Villanelle shrugged, sipped her coffee. 

 

“You have a say in where we go after breakfast. Because we have got to get out of Rome before someone catches up to us.”

 

*

 

“Eve!” Villanelle called impatiently from the hallway. “Eve, come on! How long does it take to gather up your sad little hospital gown and whiskey? We’ve got to go!” 

 

Eve grumbled to herself as she headed towards the door, apparently just going along with the fact that her and Villanelle were going on a trip of sorts together. She wasn’t even going to try to unpack that now. She turned the corner, and screamed

 

She saw Raymond. He was there, in the hallway, staring at her in horror, in the same pose he had been in as Villanelle held him, telling her to hit him with the axe. He was there.

 

He was  _ there _ .

 

“Eve?” Villanelle called worriedly as she raced up the stairs. She walked right through the apparition, and Raymond was gone. “Eve, what’s wrong?”

 

“I saw him. I saw...I saw Raymond.”

 

Villanelle blinked. 

 

“What, here? I don’t...I mean you took his head off, so...I don’t think that’s possible, Eve. Are you okay?” 

 

Eve was shaken. Her hands trembled.

 

“I don’t...I don’t know. I don’t...feel well.” 

 

Villanelle was in front of Eve in a few short strides, examining her face closely. She reached out a tentative hand to cup her cheek, and her eyes widened. 

 

“Okay. Eve? Listen to me, you are running a fever. I can help you, but you need to come with me now.” 

 

“I don’t...I think I should lie down first.” 

 

Villanelle took both of Eve’s hands in her own, willing her to look at her. 

 

“I understand, but I do not think we can stay here any longer without being found. I know a place we can go, it’s close. But I need you to hold it together until we get there. Do you understand?”

 

“I don’t want you to...I don’t need you to take care of me.” 

 

Villanelle chuckled, trying and failing to hide the bit of hurt in her eyes in response to Eve’s remark. 

 

“At the moment? Yes, you do. So stop being so fucking stubborn and come with me, and after I fix you up you are free to run off on me. Again. Cool?”

 

Eve looked into Villanelle’s eyes. They were dark, angry. She was afraid of what would happen if she insisted otherwise. 

 

“Okay,” Eve said, and allowed Villanelle to keep her grip on one of her hands and lead her out of the hotel. 

 

Villanelle led her around the corner, where a motor bike was waiting for them. 

 

“Seriously?” Eve said, dreading the idea of sitting on the back of a bike in her current state.

 

“What? How did you think I got around? Look,” she said, opening a pouch on the back of the bike, pulling a helmet out of it, and stuffing the bags of gifts she had brought for Eve into it. “Just hold on tight to me. And if you need me to pull over, just tap on my shoulder. Okay?” 

 

Eve let out a shaky breath, and nodded.

 

“Do you want the helmet?”

 

Eve grimaced. 

 

“No.”

 

Villanelle shrugged.

 

“Fine. If we crash and you die, don’t try and get mad at me,” she said, and put the helmet on.

 

Eve climbed onto the bike behind Villanelle. It lurched forward, and Eve gripped onto the girl’s waist tightly, the wind rushing past them making her shiver in her fevered state. Without letting herself think about it too much, she tucked her head into Villanelle’s shoulder to keep the wind off of her face. She almost thought she could feel Villanelle lean into the touch. 

 

Twenty minutes went by. Eve thought for sure that if they didn’t stop soon she was going to throw up. But they stopped shortly after at a run down looking shack in the middle of the Italian countryside. VIllanelle stabilized the bike, and then helped Eve off of it, leading her into the cottage, and locking the door behind them. 

 

“Where are we?” Eve asked, trying to hide how much she shaking from the fever. 

 

Villanelle walked into the cottage, letting her fingers graze over the furniture and knick knacks, eyes avoiding Eve.

 

“After you tried to kill me and Konstantin abandoned me, I realized I needed to secure a couple of hideouts in case shit ever hit the fan again. So I bought a couple of places here and there, all cash, so I would have somewhere to go that wasn’t attached to the twelve or to your government. Lay down.”

 

She gestured to the couch to Eve’s right, and Eve obeyed, sinking into scratchy blue couch cushions with immense relief. Villanelle disappeared down the hallway for a few minutes, and then reappeared just as Eve thought she might nod off to sleep, holding a small container of medical supplies. 

 

“Lift up your dress, please. I need to see what I am doing.” 

 

Eve gulped, and then obliged, pulling the red fabric up and away from her body until the wounds were visible. Villanelle pulled off the old wrappings on Eve’s stomach, revealing the inflamed gash beneath. She sighed, touched the edges of it with a gentle hand, admiring her work. Eve reminded herself to breath, feeling so incredibly vulnerable in the care of someone so dangerous, so powerful. 

 

Villanelle seemed to pull herself out of a trance, and got to work cleaning the wound. Every time Eve would wince or curse in pain, Villanelle would shush her impatiently. 

 

“Turn onto your side.” 

 

Eve obeyed, turning into the couch so Villanelle could repeat the process on the bullet entry wound, this time trying her hardest not to make a peep, focusing only on her own breathing, and perhaps also on Villanelle’s touch as her fingers grazed the small of Eve’s back.

 

“I have to administer some antibiotics. In a syringe. So hold still. Okay?”

 

Eve felt her stomach lurch, but she dared not move or protest. Somehow she knew that Villanelle knew what was best for her at the moment. Villanelle placed a hand on Eve’s hip, grazing the fabric of her lace underwear with her thumb. 

 

“Little pinch,” Villanelle breathed, and Eve bit her bottom lift, pushing past the pain. 

 

“Okay, sit up,” she said when she had finished. Eve pulled her dress back down and sat up. “Take this.” 

 

Villanelle took a couple of pills out of a medicine bottle and handed them to her, along with a bottle of water to wash them down. 

 

Eve swallowed them, reminiscing of when she had almost believed Villanelle had poisoned her with cyanide. She watched the blonde’s face carefully.

 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. 

 

Villanelle hid a smile as she gathered up the spent gauze packs and supplies.

 

“Because you are letting me.”

 

“...That’s a quote from the Breakfast Club.”

 

Villanelle shrugged.

 

“I know. But it fits. You can sleep, if you want. I have some things to do.” 

 

Eve wanted to inquire as to what she had to do, but the allure of sleep was so enticing that she was pulled into oblivion before she could think to speak.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I realize I accidentally made this story so far a mirror to Villanelle's post injury journey just much more incompetent bc Eve is useless, BUT i promise next chapter is gonna have some more exciting stuff. In the meantime savor these soft fic tropes, because really that's why we're all here anyway.
> 
> As always, your support and feedback is seen and much appreciated. Love you guys <3  
> -Tess


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension. Tension! TENSION!

Eve was not sure how much time had passed before she fully woke again. She knew that there were three times that she was nudged quietly awake, told by a soft voice to take the pills put in front of her, and allowed to fall asleep again. She had felt so peaceful, so safe somehow here that Eve just wanted to sleep and sleep, knowing no harm would come to her while she did so. 

 

She sat up. She felt...better, miraculously. Better than she had felt since she first got shot. She could almost now imagine a future where she felt normal again. 

  
Well, normal  was a relative term. 

 

There was a soft clacking sound behind her. Eve sat up, marvelling at how she was able to do so without gasping in pain, and turned around, seeing Villanelle sitting at the kitchen island table, typing away on a computer. Her eyes left the screen to look at Eve, arched a surprised eyebrow, and shut her laptop.

 

“She wakes,” Villanelle said softly, resting her chin in her palm. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Uh. Better, actually. How long have I been asleep?”

 

Villanelle shrugged.

 

“Almost two days. You do not know how to take care of yourself, do you?”

 

Eve flushed, embarrassed. 

 

“No. I guess not. I...well, thank you.” 

 

“For?” Villanelle pressed, liking the attention. 

 

“For,” Eve said with a roll of her eyes. “Keeping me safe. Taking care of me. Not killing me in my sleep?” Villanelle’s face dropped. “I...sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was mean.” 

 

“It’s nothing I am not used to by now,” Villanelle said, hiding whatever she was thinking behind a neutral expression. 

 

“But I suppose it’s not fair of me to keep throwing that at you. You, you wouldn’t hurt me, would you?” Eve asked. It wasn’t so much of a question as a personal revelation, a moment of profound clarity. 

 

“No,” Villanelle replied simply, her stare unbroken. 

 

“What changed?”

 

“Nothing has changed, Eve.” Her eyes glistened with a sudden surge of feeling she could not try to hide. “I mean I...it won’t happen again.”

 

Eve swallowed past a lump in her throat. 

 

“Okay. Then I...it won’t happen again from me, either.” 

 

Villanelle nodded, turning away so she could compose herself. 

 

“You hungry?” she asked, suddenly cheerful again. 

 

In a moment, Villanelle had dumped most of the contents of the fridge onto the kitchen counter. It was...a lot. 

 

“I, uh, I didn’t know what you would want so…” she said self consciously. 

 

“Is this what you’ve been busy doing since I was out?” Eve asked, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

 

Villanelle blinked. 

 

“Sure. And, you know, some other things,” she said, her smile hiding unspoken sins. 

 

Eve snatched a cinnamon and an apple off the table, sitting across the table from Villanelle.

 

“Do I even want to know?” she asked. 

 

“Probably not.” 

 

*

 

After having what she considered breafast despite the lateness of the day, showering and putting on some new clothes (yes, from Villanelle, and yes, very expensive and fucking beautiful), she emerged from the bathroom with a sense of resolution. But she knew Villanelle wasn’t going to like what she had to say. 

 

Villanelle was sitting on her bed, reading a book of poetry, pretending not to be watching Eve, waiting for her, admiring the clothes she had bought for her and how they fit Eve’s body. Eve stood in the doorway of Villanelle’s bedroom, not letting herself come into the room any further. 

 

“I have to go home,” Eve said. 

 

No, that definitely was not what Villanelle wanted to hear. She sighed deeply, laying her book face down into her lap and running her frustrated hands through her hair. 

 

“And what exactly do you plan to find there? Your loving husband waiting to take you back with open arms?”

 

“No,” Eve said, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms in front of her. “You and I both made sure that that is no longer possible. And that’s...that’s fine. But I owe him...some closure at least, I guess. It doesn’t feel right to just leave things as they are.” 

 

“And how well do expect that to go?”

 

“Honestly? I don’t even expect to live to see next week. So my standards aren’t that high. But...it’s something I have to do. I don’t expect you to understand, or to be happy with my choices. But I’m going. So. You can either give me a ride to the train station or I can just steal your bike and go myself. Up to you.” 

 

Villanelle rubbed her temples for a moment, suppressing whatever knee jerk outburst was contained within her. She got up, strode across the room with slow, calculated steps. Eve noticed the dark purple floral print robe she wore, the way it was tied loosely, revealing more of Villanelle’s body than Eve was particularly comfortable with. She wondered what she had thought was going to happen between them while they were hiding out here. Villanelle stopped, mere inches away from Eve, placed her hand against the doorway, above’s Eve head, her body language exuding power and complete vulnerability at the same time. 

 

“You know that if anyone is looking for you they will be keeping tabs on your house to see if your stupid face will show up, right?” 

 

“Like I said, I don’t really expect to survive this.”

 

Villanelle took a slow breath, raised a hand to Eve’s neck, and traced her collarbone with her index finger, her eyes tracing the path she made. If she wanted to, she could have reached out and choked Eve. But she didn’t.

 

“Fine. But I am going with you,” she said.

 

“I didn’t ask you to. If you think you need to protect me, you-”

 

Villanelle interrupted her by placing her hand on Eve’s mouth. 

 

Eve gulped. 

 

“I did not say I was going to protect you. I just said I am going with you. If you get yourself into trouble, which you will, that’s on you. I simply want to be there to say I told you so.”

 

She released her grip on Eve, and Eve let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t blame Villanelle for her vexation with her. She had so far not made any part of this easy. But would either of them really want it any other way? 

 

“Okay, then,” Eve said.

 

“Okay,” Villanelle replied, her mouth twitching slightly before she broke away from their closeness and moved to her cupboard, untying her robe and tossing it aside faster than Eve could avert her gaze. Eve willed herself not to watch as Villanelle stood in front of her closet, took her time as she stood naked in front of it to pick out an outfit and put it on at a languid pace. Eve was aware of the fact that she could have simply walked away from the doorway, sparing herself from the inner turmoil of deciding whether or not it was wrong to look at Villanelle as she changed. But she didn’t. 

 

Now fully dressed in a loose button down red blouse and black slacks, she pulled a fully packed bag out of the bottom of the closet. 

 

“Ready when you are,” Villanelle said as she strode past Eve.

 

Eve tried not to shudder as she breathed in the scent of her lingering perfume.

 

*

 

The train ride was long and quiet. Eve sat in the back corner booth of the car they were in, Villanelle two booths away on the opposite side, protesting Eve’s decisions by giving her the silent treatment. Eve had expected nothing less from her. Even if she had to quell the urge to go over to her and sit next to Villanelle, missing the sort of closeness they had gotten used to with one another. 

 

The closer they got to London, the more nauseous with anxiety Eve became. This was going to be  _ bad _ . What would Niko do? Call the cops? Lock her in a cupboard until they arrived? Try to kill her? Or worst of all, would he simply shut the door in her face, denying her any chance to speak to him one last time?

 

Eve chanced another glance at Villanelle, and when she did, the girl kept her eyes on the window, but tapped on her watch as a signal to Eve, reminding her that she needed to take her antibiotics she had gotten for her. Eve couldn’t help but smile as she pulled the bottle from her bag and took them. 

 

Villanelle was right.

 

Eve did not know how to take care of herself.

 

*

 

Eve’s stomach was in complete knots when the train pulled into London. It was late. She should have been tired, but she was so terribly dreading what she had to do next that she felt like she had been downing energy drinks all day. Her heart was racing, her palms were sweaty, she felt like she might throw up at any second. 

 

_ Yeah, Eve. This was a great idea.  _

 

Villanelle on the other hand seemed as cool as a cucumber. She walked straight past Eve and off the train, not even glancing her way, and then sat on a bench at the station, waiting with an impatient tap of her foot, obnoxiously large sunglasses masking her expression. 

 

The attendant in the car gave Eve an expectant look. She was the only one left inside.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m going,” she said, and gathered her bag, shakily standing and exiting the train. 

 

They sat in silence in the cab Villanelle called, both of them thrumming their fingers against their laps agitatedly. The silence was becoming agonizing for Eve, but her throat was so dry with panic she could not bring herself to speak. 

 

They arrived outside Eve’s, well,  _ Niko’s _ house just after midnight. The cab parked across the street. Eve took a few composing breaths after she stepped out of the car, looked behind her to see her companion, who seemed content to stay where she was, leaning against the cab, so that she could watch the impending shit show from a distance while still letting Eve know, silently, that she’d be waiting for her. Waiting to pick up the pieces. With a resolute nod, Eve crossed the street, walked up the steps, and stood in front of the door.

 

_ Okay, Eve. Ring the doorbell.  _

 

_ Any time now. _

 

_ Just...do it.  _

 

_ Seriously, do it.  _

 

She knocked instead, quietly, part of her hoping that he wouldn’t hear or that he wasn’t home. Maybe she could just slip a note under the door. Same thing, right?

 

No answer. Eve was relieved for only a moment before her damn conscience perked up again, insisting that she finish what she started. She pulled the spare key from where he usually hid it under the doormat, and let herself in. 

 

It was dark. Of course it was dark, it was in the middle of the night on a school night. She turned on the hallway light, tiptoed into the kitchen, marveling at how clean the place was. Niko never kept the place this clean before. Was it because Eve had been the messy one this whole time?

 

She looked for a pen and paper, still for some reason thinking a note was going to be the way to handle this. God, what could she write to convey her regret? How would any amount of words ever do anything to help heal what she had done? The pen rested at the top of the paper, unmoving, as Eve felt herself spiraling in a rare moment of accountability of her actions.

 

Until the kitchen light came on, she turned around quickly, and saw Niko standing next to the light switch, staring at her, mouth agape in horror. 

 

“Niko, I-” Eve began, but was interrupted…

 

“Jesus Christ!” Niko squealed in terror, and threw a coat from the rack next to him at her head. 

 

Eve batted it away, shocked. 

 

“What are...how...you...you’re supposed to be dead!” Niko shrieked. 

 

_ Wait...what? _

 

Niko took a tentative step towards her, positively shaking. Eve stood slowly, afraid to startle him any further. He got close enough to her that he could reach out and poke her with his pointer finger.

 

“Jesus...Jesus christ, Eve.  _ Fuck _ .” He pressed his back against the fridge, eyes still bulging wide. 

 

“What do you mean I’m supposed to be dead?”

 

“I mean you’re fucking  _ dead _ , Eve! Carolyn came to the house with some agents. They said that you’d been killed! We had a funeral, for fuck’s sake! They gave me your ashes! They...oh my god...”

 

Niko seemed to become light headed, and he guided himself to a chair at the kitchen counter. For the life of her, Eve could not think of a single way to respond to any of what he had just said. Niko couldn’t stand to look at Eve, and buried his head in his hands.

 

“So what? What is it?” Niko asked, voice muffled by his hands. “Did you tell them to fake your death? Are you just here to fuck my life up some more? Or are you dead after all and have I finally lost my mind? Hmm?”

 

“Well, I’m definitely not dead,” Eve said blankly, feeling numb all over. “But if Carolyn made the effort to fake my death then that’s...that’s probably not good.” 

 

“No,” Niko said, moving to rest his chin in his hands so he could at least look at her. “It’s not. God, Eve I’m so...fucking...angry with you.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you have any idea what you and your fucking girlfriend have done to me. To my life? To fucking  _ Gemma _ , Eve? Do you?” 

 

“Yes.”

 

Niko laughed darkly. 

 

“Of course you do. God, I should fucking kill you myself.”

 

“You probably should.” 

 

“The world would be a better place if I did.”

 

“I’m sure it would.” 

 

“God.  _ Fuck _ ,” Niko stood, pacing back and forth on his side of the kitchen. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you here?” 

 

“I...I actually don’t really know, now. This plan made more sense when I didn’t know I was dead.”

 

Niko stopped pacing, turning to her with fresh intensity.

 

“Is she here?” he asked.

 

“Who?” Eve replied, playing dumb.

 

“Don’t pull that shit! Did you fucking bring her here, Eve?” he bellowed.

 

“No! Jesus, calm down,” Eve lied. 

 

Niko breathed, calming himself slightly, though he still seemed to almost vibrate with anger.

 

“Look, I came here to tell you that I’m sorry,” Eve said. “I know saying it won’t change anything, won’t undo anything, but I had to say it to you face to face nonetheless. I am sorry, Niko.”

 

“Fuck you,” he said.

 

“I am,” she insisted.

 

“I don’t believe you! Okay? I don’t! You’re not capable of being sorry for anyone but yourself! So spare me the speech, alright? I don’t want it.” 

 

“Then what do you want from me? Name it.”

 

“I just…” Niko held back a sob as he collapsed against the fridge again. “I wanted you to be  _ dead _ . I was relieved when I saw Carolyn at the door. It meant that...it meant that you were taken off this earth before your soul could become any more  _ vile _ . Before you could do any more damage. You’re like a fucking  _ bomb _ , Eve. You’ve destroyed  _ everything _ .” 

 

“I know.” 

 

Niko sighed. 

 

“I really, truly hate you. Both of you.” 

 

“I know that, too.”

 

Eve fought past the tears in her eyes, the painful lump in her throat. She had known for a long time that her marriage was over. But she wished it had been a cleaner end than this.

  
“I shouldn’t have come,” she said, “I’m sorry. If you want a divorce, you can have it. I…”   
  


Niko began to laugh. Loudly. Manically. 

 

“I don’t need a divorce, Eve. You’re dead, remember? Legally. I already cashed in on your life insurance. It’s done.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, right. How, um, how much did you get?” 

 

“Really?” he asked incredulously. 

 

“What? Your dead wife can’t ask you how much money you got off of her life insurance plan?” 

 

“No, because I know what you’re going to ask next.”

 

“Well, to be fair…”

 

“Stop it, Eve.”

 

“What? I’m legally dead, Niko! Which makes me legally broke! How do you expect me to support myself?” 

 

Niko stormed away from Eve and up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Eve stood dumbly alone in what used to be her kitchen, wondering if she should leave. Until she heard Niko emerge again from their room and storm back down the stairs. He shoved an envelope at her. 

 

“What’s this?” she asked.

 

“The first balloon payment from the insurance plan. Cashier’s check. Take it, and get the fuck out of my life. I never want to see you or your psychopath girlfriend again, do you hear me? This is me paying you off. Please just...do me this one kindness, and let me go on with my life pretending that you really are dead. Please.” 

 

Eve took the envelope meekly. 

 

“Okay,” she said, and headed to the door.

 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Niko said, ruffling through the pile of mail on the counter. “This came for you shortly after the funeral. I figured that it was sent by mistake. Now I’m not so sure. I don’t know why I kept it. Lord knows I was quick to throw away the rest of your things. But...take it. Take it and go.” 

 

Niko extended is hand to Eve, a small postcard grasped in it. Eve took it, looked at her former husband’s broken expression one last time, and left what used to be her home for the last time. 

 

Villanelle was waiting for her when Eve emerged. She was still resting against the cab, but her demeanor had changed. Her brow was furrowed, her fists clenched at her sides, her chest rising unsteadily as she tried to calm her breathing. Eve couldn’t know how much of what had happened inside Villanelle could possibly be aware of, but she knew that it must have taken everything in her not to step in and protect Eve. Why had she stayed outside? Because she was still trying to prove her point, or because she was, in her own way, trying to show Eve that she understood her need to do this without her help? Either way, seeing Villanelle standing there, waiting for her, was enough to push Eve across the street to her, rather than let her wobbling legs buckle beneath her. 

 

Villanelle silently opened the door for Eve, allowed Eve to step into the cab, and shut the door behind her. Eve focused on her breathing. 

 

_ In two...three...four. Out two...three...four. In… _

 

Villanelle got into the cab, shut the door, looked at Eve with worried eyes.

 

_ Out… _

 

“Where to?” the cab driver said with bored disinterest. 

 

“Are you okay?” Villanelle asked softly, laying a hand on Eve’s knee. 

 

_ In… _

 

“Meter’s running, ladies,” the driver insisted more urgently. 

 

“Oh would you shut up you annoying asshole!” Villanelle burst, kicking the back of his chair in a childlike tantrum. 

 

“Fuck you, lady,” he chirped back. 

 

Villanelle’s eyes grew wide, manic. She looked to Eve, for either permission or for restraint. Eve could only stare blankly back at her. 

 

“You need to eat,” Villanelle said with resolution, “Take us to a diner or something. Asshole.” 

 

The cab lurched into movement. Villanelle squeezed Eve’s knee instinctively. They sat in silence for most of the ride, Eve too afraid to speak in case it came out in squeaky, pathetic sobs. The life she knew was dead. Truly and legally, dead.

 

“What is that?” Villanelle asked suddenly, looking down to Eve’s clasped hands. 

 

Eve had completely forgotten about the envelope in her hand. 

 

“Oh, it’s…” she said, holding up the check Niko had given her. “It’s…”

 

“No, not that, what is that?” Villanelle asked with a sudden harshness in her tone. 

 

Eve saw the postcard in her lap, thinking nothing of it until now. She picked it up, looked at it a moment. It said  _ “Greetings from Spain”.  _ No sender was indicated. On the top right corner of it was a series of numbers. Eve assumed they were stamped on by the delivery service as some sort of sorting procedure. It was nothing really, not to Eve. But when she saw Villanelle’s reaction to it: her widened eyes, her clenched jaw, she knew that there must be more to it than she realized. 

 

With a confused expression, Eve handed the card over to Villanelle, watching her carefully for any clues as to what it meant to her. Villanelle looked it over, flipping it over and over as if doing so enough times might reveal more to her. Her breath quickened. Her hand clenched around the postcard until it crumpled up. A sudden, bewildering rage overcame her. 

 

“This was sent to you? To your house?” she asked slowly, carefully, her body shaking with contained fury. 

 

“Yes? Why…”

 

“Son of a  _ bitch _ !” Villanelle shrieked, throwing the postcard back to Eve.

 

Before Eve could even react, even question what had just overcome Villanelle, Villanelle had pulled a knife she had concealed in her shoe, and stabbed it in a seemingly random direction.

 

It hit the driver in the back of the throat. 

 

The car veered towards oncoming traffic. 

 

Eve screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl Villanelle was being too soft for too long, she was gonna break at some point...
> 
> Fun fact: Family drama and tons of stress are oddly motivating for writing? 
> 
> Also YAY I FOUND A PLOT.
> 
> These two are killing me slowly. I hope you're enjoying the story so far! There's some fun stuff up ahead. If you find yourself in need of some more of these two jack asses and their nonsense and pining, I also just started a new AU called "Wanna Kill My Wife?" that I'm also super excited to be working on. It's only one chapter so far...but there will be more to come! 
> 
> Leave me some kudos or comments and I'll cherish you forever. Follow my tumblr (@ schatzietess) if you want to hear my occasional ramblings about how the updates are going. Love you guys and your support of my bullshit.  
> -Tess


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You did a number on me  
> But honestly, baby, who’s counting?  
> I did a number on you  
> But honestly, baby who’s counting?”

Eve’s ears rang. Time seemed to stop for a moment, long enough for her to wonder: what the fuck just happened? She looked up, saw the shards of broken glass littering the front seat, glittering in the moonlight. There was a numbness in her forehead and nose. If she had not been brimming with adrenaline from the force of the car crash, it would have registered to her as pain from slamming her face against the front passenger seat during the impact. She sluggishly looked up and over to see the driver’s face pressed into the depressed airbag, blood trickling from his face and throat, the small blade Villanelle had pulled seemingly from nowhere still sticking out of the back of his neck. 

 

He was certainly, unquestioningly, dead. 

 

Eve felt like she had just woken up from a dream. Everything felt acutely in focus. She could suddenly perceive every detail around her with amazing accuracy, and yet at the same time it felt like she was watching the whole thing from far away, from somewhere safe. 

 

But she was not somewhere safe. She was in a car with the woman who had just killed their cab driver. And it made her feel...alive.

 

Villanelle was looking at Eve, eyes wild and angry, focused on Eve as if nothing else around them existed. Not the crash, not the car, not the dead body, none of it. Just her. 

 

“Do you understand what this means, Eve?” Villanelle asked, as if the wreck had not even happened, as if they were still continuing on the conversation they had started as they were being driven to a diner. 

 

“It means we’re not getting food?” Eve asked. 

 

“Ugh!” Villanelle screeched, and pushed the door open to exit the car. But it was stuck, warped form the impact, and no amount of manic shoving and kicking on Villanelle’s part would open it. 

 

“Villanelle, stop!” Eve called out to her as if she were leagues away.

 

Villanelle paused her assault on the car door and stayed facing away from Eve, her body heaving as she breathed through her still unquenched rage. The streetlamp they had careened into still shone down on her from above, like a false moon on an otherwise black night. It illuminated the crumpled postcard at Eve’s feet. She picked it up.

 

“What is this?” Eve asked. “Why did it make you do  _ that _ ?”

 

Villanelle turned, and lurched towards Eve with such ferocity that for a second, just a second, Eve thought she might kill her as well. But Eve stood her ground, let the girl invade her space, let her bring her face mere inches from her own, so she could stare down at her, seething. 

 

“ _ That _ . Is how The Twelve gives assignments to their employees. Which, as of now, includes you.” 

 

Eve blinked. 

 

“That can’t be-”

 

“It is. Those numbers on the back represent a name, file, date, time, and GPS coordinates of a hit.” 

 

Eve smoothed out the card and turned it over, looking at the numbers but not really looking at them. If there was one thing she knew about Villanelle, it was when she was lying and when she was not. And she definitely was telling the truth about this. Eve felt it in her bones.

 

“God, don’t you get it?” Villanelle continued. “You’re their new hire. And where does that leave me, huh? I’m out. I left them, left everything I knew and loved, for  _ you _ . But they still needed someone to do the work. So what do they do? They give you  _ my _ job. Ugh!” she screamed, and moved away from Eve, hands gripping the headrest of the driver seat and shaking it to release some of her pent up frustration. “So what was the point, huh? What was the point of me giving up everything for you, Eve? Do you think that I hung around your hospital bed becuase I had nothing better to do? Do you think I took care of you just becuase it was a way to pass the time? No. It was becuase you are all I have left. And not only did you meet every gesture I made for you with scorn, but now. Now, Eve! You get to just slide into the life I gave up for you! You ruined my fucking life! You-” 

 

Eve knew there was a lot of information to unpack in what Villanelle was saying. She knew that the piece of paper in her hand was now a key that unlocked some unknown, terrifying, and thrilling future. But all she could think about at this exact moment was how Villanelle was coming apart in front of her. And it was Eve’s fault, in part. So much of the past few months had been her fault. And Eve felt suddenly...awake again. Everything in her mind that had been muddled, drowned in self pity and uncertainty, instantly slid into place. And she knew exactly what to do. And even if she didn’t, she felt that the fire that had been lit within her the second Villanelle had sent them careening into that lampost would guide her. 

 

Letting that fire guide her, she moved towards Villanelle, closing the distance between them as she continued to rant and ramble about how her life is over, about how she hated Eve, even though they both knew she didn’t. Her left hand gripped Villanelle’s neck, pulling her out of her violent trance, and Eve pulled her in, kissing her hastily. 

 

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t how she had pictured it all the times she had pretended not to be picturing it. But there was a solitary lamp light above them, a corpse in front of  them, soft lips pressed against her own, the sound of Villanelle’s breath hitching in her throat, the smell of Villanelle’s perfume and blood filling her senses.

 

And it was close, Eve decided. Close enough to perfect. 

 

Villanelle pulled away after a few seconds, dilated pupils searching Eve’s face with bewilderment. 

 

“Hiccups,” Eve said simply, and pulled away from Villanelle, giving her space. 

 

“Wha-” Villanelle tried to reply, though words seemed to be unable to form themselves on her tongue. 

 

“Better than a slap, isn’t it?” Eve replied. 

 

Villanelle’s chest heaved with a deep, cleansing breath, and she nodded. 

 

“Is he dead?” she asked. 

 

Eve looked at the taxi driver again, and nodded. 

 

“Okay. I’m...I’m going to deal with  _ this _ ,” she said, gesturing to Eve’s lips, “later. But right now, we have to take care of  _ that _ .”

 

She gestured to the body with a lift of her chin. Eve nodded again, and pushed against her own door, which opened just fine. She stepped out, reached her hand out to Villanelle, and helped the murderess out. 

 

A small crowd had formed, gawking at the scene. Eve gestured to the crowd with a look. Villanelle saw them, nodded, and slid back into the car, plucking the knife from the driver’s throat with a slick ‘pop’, and tucking it into her shoe. She then exited the car, winked at Eve, and began to screech hysterically. 

 

“Oh my God, someone help him!” Villanelle cried in an English accent. “He must have had a seizure that caused the crash! I don’t think he’s breathing! Someone, please, call an ambulance!” 

 

She continued her dramatic carrying on, until the onlookers shifted their attention to the body in the front seat. Once she felt content with her performance, once the attention of the onlookers had shifted away from them and to the dead man in the front seat, she grabbed Eve’s hand, and pulled her away from the scene and towards a nearby alleyway.

 

“You didn’t touch the body, did you?” Villanelle asked as she pulled her along, making left and right turns with no clear pattern as she weaved them deeper into the city. 

 

“No,” Eve replied. 

 

“Good. My prints probably won’t show up on any databases unless they look really hard, but yours I’m not so sure.” 

 

“Oh, we probably won’t need to worry about that,” Eve replied as she tried to keep up, Villanelle’s strides always longer than hers due to their height difference. “I’m apparently dead.” 

 

Villanelle stopped, turning towards Eve with piqued interest. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep. Funeral and everything.” 

 

“Wow. Well, welcome to the club.” 

 

Villanelle resumed her brisk walk. Up one block, then left, then right.

 

Eve half ran so they could walk next to each other. 

 

“So what’s the plan? Hideout? New clothes to disguise ourselves?”   
  


“What? No. I’m still hungry.” 

 

Eve laughed. Of course she was.

 

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Eve asked. “You forget that I used to live around here.” 

 

Villanelle seemed to think on it, nodded, and then fell in step behind Eve, allowing her to take the lead. Once Eve gained her bearing as to just where exactly Villanelle had blindly led them, she was able to find a diner in about five blocks. The two of them said nothing to each other for the rest of the walk, but there was a palpable energy between them that seemed to speak for itself. 

 

Eve was dead. A cab driver was  _ really _ dead. The Twelve had made contact with Eve and not Villanelle. They had kissed…

 

_ I’m going to deal with this later, _ Villanelle had said, her gaze burning into Eve. Eve could only wonder, only hope, at how Villanelle planned to deal with her.

 

Eve led them inside and to a booth in the far corner, mostly out of sight from the handful of people scattered about the restaurant despite the late hour. Villanelle strode past Eve to sit in the side of the booth that gave her a better vantage point, brushing against Eve as she did so. She glanced at her a moment as their sides touched, Villanelle looked into her eyes, and then frowned. 

 

“Your face,” she said softly, fingertips grazing her cheek, “you are hurt.” 

 

Eve remembered the dull numbness she had felt from the impact, which was now, if she focused on it, turning into a dull ache. 

 

“I’m fine,” Eve insisted. 

 

“What about,” Villanelle murmured, her hand tracing down from Eve’s cheek down to her collarbone, between her breasts, and to her stomach, grazing gently over where Eve’s fresh scar would be. 

 

“It’s...it’s fine,” Eve replied, breathless. 

 

Villanelle seemed doubtful of Eve’s response. Her fingers moved to grip the fabric of Eve’s shirt, to lift it up to inspect the wound for herself. Eve froze, feeling like her skin was on fire everywhere it had been touched. 

 

A clearing of the throat of an impatient waitress pulled them both out of the moment. Villanelle looked at the waitress with as much venom as she could muster, but eventually decided on pulling away from Eve and sat down.

 

“What’r we having, ladies?” the woman, older and looking perpetually bored, asked. 

 

Villanelle picked up one of the menus on the table, looking it over with disgust. 

 

“I would love some waffles,” Eve blurted out, having a sudden intense craving. “Like. A huge stack of waffles. With strawberries and whipped cream...And a hot chocolate. Please.” 

 

Villanelle looked up at Eve over her menu with an amused quirk of her eyebrow.

 

“I will have the same,” Villanelle said. 

 

The waitress scribbled into her pad, and walked away from them in disinterested silence. 

 

They stared at each other for a few moments, chess pieces on a board that was not yell fully realized. 

 

“I just want to say,” Eve said, breaking the silence. “That...we can’t be sure about what happens next. This…” she pulled out the postcard in her pocket. “This could mean anything. And even if...even if you’re right about this. I’ll...I’ll just tell them no. That I won’t do it. I can’t do it.” 

 

“Yes you can, Eve. You are more than capable of replacing me. And you have to. You do not turn these people down. Not if you want to stay alive.” 

 

Eve let out a perplexed sigh.

 

“Villanelle, come on. You really think I can just become a professional assassin? Really? I’ve got one kill under my belt. One. And not only did it end with me almost dead myself, but I still have nightmares about it. Both when I’m asleep and I’m awake. I see Raymond’s face...everywhere. In strangers I pass on the street. In reflections in glass windows and puddles. In that man in the taxi…”

 

“That will pass. In time.” 

 

“But the point is, you’re angry with me becuase you think I’m replacing you, right? But that can’t be true. No one can  _ ever _ be quite like you. And if this is something they want me to do, and if you’re saying that I have no option to oblige, I can’t do it alone. I need you, Villanelle.”

 

“No you don’t.” 

 

“Of course I do!” 

 

“Really? You have a funny way of showing it.” 

 

Eve sighed, looking at the girl across from her, who in so many ways was powerful, independent, untouchable, and at the same time was soft, lonely, and desperately wanting someone to connect to. 

 

“Look. In Rome...I was scared. I didn’t want it to be true that we needed each other, becuase I still wanted to believe that some strand of the life I used to have was still there for me to cling to. But any hope I had of going back was signed away in my death certificate and buried with someone else’s ashes. And now this. And I’m not like you, Villanelle. I don’t know how to walk this path alone. I don’t trust myself enough yet to rely on my own instincts. So whatever comes next, I need you with me to figure it out.”

 

Eve wondered to herself why she was saying all of this to Villanelle. Was it becuase she wanted to say something, anything that might placate Villanelle past the idea of possibly killing her out of revenge? Was it becuase she wanted her to stick around to protect her until she figured out what The Twelve had in store for her?

 

Or was it becuase it was all true?

 

 “I know that’s a lot to ask,” Eve pressed on. “I know you’re rightfully furious with me. But you are all I have left.” Eve reached out across the table to grasp one of VIllanelle’s hands. She flinched, but did not pull away. “You said you gave up everything for me. Well now I have, too.” 

 

Villanelle searched Eve’s face, her eyes, her mouth, her bruised nose. 

 

“You need me,” Villanelle said, half in question, half a prayer. 

 

“I always have,” Eve said. And it was the truth, they both felt that it was. 

 

The waitress arrived with the hot chocolate and two plates of waffles, heaping with strawberries and whipped cream. Eve removed her hand from Villanelle’s, clearing her throat nervously. Villanelle inspected her plate, poking at it like she had never seen a waffle before. Then she shrugged, and stuffed an ungodly large chunk of it into her mouth. 

 

“Okay,” she said, words garbled behind a mound of sugary carbs. 

 

“So you’ll stay with me? No matter what happens next?” Eve asked.

 

Villanelle smiled through her full mouth.

 

“Eat your waffles,” she mumbled. 

 

*

 

They didn’t linger for long. Soon enough the cops would be looking for whoever had driven a knife into the cab driver’s neck. Villanelle tipped the waitress generously and they slipped away into the night. 

 

“You know of any hotels nearby?” she asked

 

Eve pondered the question.

 

“You looking for a specific level of aesthetic or are you just wanting a place to crash for the night?”

 

“We need a place that isn’t going to ask a lot of questions. But...I also have standards.” 

 

“Subtle but upscale. Got it. I’d suggest getting a ride, but uh...I’d rather not deplete London of any more cab drivers this evening.” 

 

Villanelle frowned at Eve, eyes playful.

 

“Are you upset with me, Eve?” she asked.

 

Eve shrugged, and answered honestly.

 

“No. That guy was a dick.” 

 

Villanelle laughed. Truly laughed. 

 

“You are starting to act like yourself again.” 

 

Eve smiled. 

 

“So are you,” she replied. 

 

*

 

A ten minute walk later, and Eve and Villanelle were checking into a hotel. The woman working the counter was French, and so Eve took a step back and allowed Villanelle to talk to her, likely charming her way to a luxury suite or two paid in cash. She was handed only one room key, and Villanelle walked towards the elevator, expecting Eve to follow. 

 

“Adjoining rooms?” Eve asked. 

 

The elevator opened, and Villanelle stepped in, leaned against the wall, and waited for Eve to join her, eyes wild. 

 

“No.” 

 

Eve gulped. She knew it had been her who had crossed that barrier between them, knew that she had been the one who had kissed Villanelle, awakening something in the both of them they had been carefully tiptoeing around since the moment they met. But Eve felt that the power was now completely taken out of her hands, transferred to Villanelle the moment their lips met. The tension between them, up until now, had always been Eve’s to wield, she realized. Villanelle had manipulated it to her needs and wants, but had never been the one to finally push them to the brink. And now that Eve had done just that, she wanted Villanelle to have all of it: all the control, all the power, even if it killed her. 

 

Eve stepped into the elevator, every nerve in her body seeming to hum with anticipation, with want. She was almost disappointed when Villanelle didn’t overpower her right then and there in the elevator. 

 

Instead, she stood completely still, watching Eve like a predator, as the elevator dinged and rattled it’s way up to their floor. Eve smoothed her sweating hands against her pant legs, willing herself to find some sort of calm. But the anticipation was almost as deadly as the bloodied knife concealed on Villanelle’s person.

 

The elevator doors opened. Villanelle stepped out first, Eve following behind as close as she dared. They approached their room. Villanelle opened the door, held it open, allowing Eve to step inside first. 

 

And the room was, unsurprisingly, breathtaking. Full kitchen, full bar, luxurious embroidered couches and chairs centered around a stupidly large television, a balcony outside as big as any hotel room Eve had ever stayed in before, a bathroom as big as Eve’s bedroom with a large glass door shower, double vanity, and a hot tub. 

 

And lastly, a single bed, adorned with silk sheets. 

 

Villanelle’s eyes scanned the room with a blank stare.

 

“This will do,” she said, and closed the door behind them. 

 

Eve silently willed herself to stop breathing so damn heavily, and distracted herself from the suffocating tension in the room by walking into the bathroom to examine her face. 

 

She pulled her hair back to take a closer look. Her makeup was slightly smudged, her nose and part of her forehead pink and inflamed, but not looking nearly as bad as Eve had pictured in her mind. After all, if she could survive a gunshot to the back, she could certainly survive a whack to the face. 

 

Through the mirror she saw Villanelle appear behind her, watching her closely through the glass. Eve’s first instinct was to turn and face her, but she stayed put, the two of them staring at each other’s reflections. Villanelle stepped closer behind Eve, hovering. Eve let go of her hair, let it tumble back around her shoulders haphazardly, and gripped the marble countertop like it was the only thing keeping her inside her own body. 

 

Villanelle brought herself closer still, took one of Eve’s hands, and turned her around, pressing Eve back against the countertop. She pushed Eve’s hair away from her face with slow precision. Eve shuddered without restraint. Villanelle then cupped Eve’s chin in her hand, turning her head from one side to the other, examining her face. 

 

“It’s not too bad,” she said in a soothing voice. “You’ll probably have a black eye or two tomorrow.”

 

“C-cool,” was all Eve could manage to say. 

 

Villanelle breathed through her nose in a way that was almost a laugh, and then her eyes trailed downward. 

 

“I want to see it again,” Villanelle whispered in a way that should not have made Eve so instantly aroused, and yet…

 

Eve nodded, unable to speak, and Villanelle moved her hands to grip the bottom of Eve’s sweater, lifting it gently up and over her head, and tossing it aside. Then she leaned down, moving her hands to Eve’s thighs, and lifted her up and onto the countertop with surprising ease. Eve leaned back, letting her head rest against the mirror, the anticipation agonizing, heat swelling between her legs. Villanelle’s fingertips were cool, soothing against Eve’s skin as they moved from her thighs to trace over the scar, back and forth, memorizing the feeling of it with her touch. 

 

“Now you,” Eve managed to croak out. 

 

Villanelle looked up from admiring her own work on Eve’s body, tilted her head, considering Eve’s request, and her eyes flicked down to the buttons of her own blouse in a silent consent. Eve brought her hands, absolutely shaking, to the top button, undoing them one after another, as fast as her trembling fingers could manage, until she got to the last one just above the hem of Villanelle’s pants. She undid the last button, pulled the shirt away from her stomach until it was hanging open, and stared at the light pink line below her navel, in nearly the same spot as her own. She gripped Villanelle’s exposed hips with her palms, just enjoying the feeling of her skin, her thumb tracing over the scar, while Villanelle’s fingertips still lingered on her own. 

 

Their eyes found each other at the same moment, and the impact of it sucked the air out of Eve’s lungs. 

 

“I told you we are the same,” Villanelle said. 

 

And maybe, finally, Eve could understand that they were. Both pairs of hands had done so much damage, inflicted so many wounds, yet when they were laid on each other they were more gentle than any touch Eve had ever thought possible. 

 

“I know,” she replied. 

 

_ God _ , this was too much. If she didn’t kiss Villanelle soon she was going to…

 

She didn’t get to finish that thought. Because, as if Villanelle had heard it, she raised her free hand up to Eve’s neck, losing it in Eve’s curls as she gripped her, pulling Eve to her, the final connection of their lips shattering both their worlds into a million pieces, like broken glass glittering in the moonlight. 

 

The kiss was gentle at first. Villanelle was being careful with Eve, afraid to hurt her or scare her away, remembering all the times Eve had flinched from her touch. And it was soft, so perfectly, impossibly soft. And maybe some other time that would have been enough for Eve, to stay just like that, pressed against a bathroom mirror, careful hands gripping, caressing her stomach, Villanelle’s hands tangling into her hair, lips pressing slowly and gently against her own. 

 

But right now it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Eve wanted more. She wanted  _ everything _ . 

 

Eve kissed Villanelle back hungrily, pushing herself away from the mirror and into Villanelle’s grip. Her tongue slid against Villanelle’s lips, and she parted them for Eve, their mouths beginning to languish in each other’s taste. 

 

The taste of strawberry waffles and hot chocolate would probably always be a turn on for Eve now. 

 

But it still wasn’t enough. She tugged at Villanelle’s open shirt, pulling it off of her and throwing it aside as Eve gasped for breath against her mouth. She could feel Villanelle’s chest heaving against her own, becoming just as undone, just as greedy as Eve was. Villanelles lips moved to Eve’s cheek, her chin, her neck, down to her pulse point, where she bit down,  _ hard _ , and 

 

_ Holy shit. _

 

Eve’s hands began to roam without abandon, up her back, over her shoulder blades, down the contours of her muscular arms, down to her toned stomach, further down to her thighs, gripping her by the belt loops of her pants to pull her closer. She wanted to know her, every inch of her, trace it so many times over that she could map it from memory. 

 

The bathroom light was glaring. When Eve was at home with Niko, she always insisted on turning the light off when they had sex. She hadn’t always been that way. Not when they were first together. But the years had worn on her body, on her connection to her former husband, until she no longer wanted to see what they did, how they moved, how she looked.

 

She wanted the light on now. She wanted bright, brilliant clarity. She wanted to see everything, feel everything. From the first time Villanelle had entered her house, stripped her dress off of her, she had looked at Eve’s body with awe, with admiration, with a lustful gaze Eve had not thought possible. And she felt fucking beautiful when Villanelle looked at her, when she touched her, when she kissed her. She felt  _ worshipped _ . 

 

And this was only the beginning. 

 

Villanelle found Eve’s mouth again, their kisses sloppy, desperate, perfect. Villanelle’s hands roamed up Eve’s back, unclasped her bra so fast Eve didn’t even realize it had happened until VIllanelle had pulled the straps down and let it drop to the floor, pulling herself away from Eve just enough so that she could look at her. 

 

“God you are so  _ fucking _ sexy,” Villanelle said in what could only be described as a growl. 

 

Eve’s arousal was so intense she thought she might black out if she didn’t find a way to get  _ more _ . 

 

“Take me to bed,” Eve demanded. “Now.” 

 

“Thank God,” Villanelle hissed, and moved to pick Eve up off of the countertop.

 

Jesus  _ Christ _ she was strong. Eve wrapped her legs around Villanelle’s waist, their bare skin pressed together in a way that was delicious and infinitely frustrating at the same time. Villanelle’s hands gripped Eve’s ass tightly as she pulled her away to the countertop and towards the rest of the room, Eve wondering where she would choose to fuck her first. God, she would fuck Villanelle on the  _ floor _ if that would make the impending bliss come any faster. 

 

Before they went any further Villanelle collided the two of them against the wall next to the door, unable to wait any longer before kissing her savagely again. 

 

If she hadn’t waited and took her straight to the bed, they might not have heard the knock on the door. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” Villanelle seethed, yanking her head away and turning to look at the door. 

 

“You better not answer that,” Eve warned, pulling Villanelle back into the moment, pulling their bodies back together. 

 

Another knock.

 

Villanelle started spewing out half a dozen languages worth of swears and protestations. 

 

“Can I kill them?” she asked. 

 

“Be my guest,” Eve replied breathlessly. 

 

With an evil smirk that was more than tempting, Villanelle regrettably pulled herself away from Eve, leaving her cold and exposed against the wall, and looked through the peephole to see who was interrupting them.

 

“Uh...Eve? You better get over here.” 

 

_ God fucking dammit, _ Eve thought, and moved to stand next to Villanelle, looking through the hole herself.

 

Carolyn was at the door. Goddamn _Carolyn_ _Martens_ was at the mother fucking door, interrupting Eve from finally getting good and properly fucked.

 

“Shit,” Eve spat, and rushed into the bathroom, grabbing her sweater and pulling it over her head. She should let Villanelle kill her. God, she should kill her herself. It was one thing to tell her husband she was dead, it was a far more serious offense to interrupt her from what was just about to happen. 

 

Eve turned back to Villanelle before opening the door, raising a questioning eyebrow to her as she stood rather confidently behind her, not seeming to have any plans to retrieve her own shirt. 

 

Eve shrugged, not about to protest that decision, and opened the door. 

 

“Evening,” Carolyn said, looking to Eve and then to her half dressed companion. “Am I interrupting something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY???? Okay. 
> 
> I woke up two hours early before I had to be at work to crank this damn chapter out bc Im! Trash!!!
> 
> But it was worth it. 
> 
> This is not nearly the end of the sin imma pepper into this story. So, enjoy!
> 
> I have another WIP i'm splitting my time with rn (a strangers on a train AU called "Wanna Kill My Wife" if you're so inclined to check that out) so to be safe I'm gonna say that updates from here on out are gonna be once every 2 weeks.
> 
> As usual, you guys are fucking phenomenal lil angel babies who give me lotsa happy feelings with your comments and feedback and i love you all SO MUCH. 
> 
> If I haven't replied to a comment you left, just know that I saw it and it probably made me do a lil happy dance. 
> 
> Okay I gotta go to bed now before I pull and all nighter bc the writing itch is hitting me hard rn.
> 
> Have a great week, you beautiful souls!   
> -Tess


	7. Chapter 7

“Yes, actually, you are interrupting,” Villanelle said in an agitated tone, even though her body language was relaxed as she slumped into the couch behind her. Eve stood meekly between the two of them: her former boss and her would-be lover, and she could do nothing other than hold the door open for Carolyn as she invited herself in. 

 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll forgive me eventually, after you’ve heard what I have to say.” 

 

Carolyn sat herself down at the swiveling office chair at the desk to her right, facing them as if this were MI6 all over again, and Eve was at yet another briefing, and nothing had changed. It made Eve furious to see Carolyn this way, becuase  _ everything _ had changed. And a lot of that change had to do with her. 

 

“So. I see you two are getting along,” Carolyn said. 

 

Eve didn’t know how to answer that. Eve may have been fired, but it still felt incredibly weird to be caught by your former boss as you were about to hook up with someone. Eve, who was still standing awkwardly in the hallway, becoming more and more aware of her disheveled appearance, glanced over her shoulder to see if Villanelle had any smartass comment on the tip of her tongue. But she stayed silent, lounging against the bright blue camelback couch without a care in the world. At least, that’s how she wanted herself to appear. How she actually felt was a mystery to Eve, as usual. 

 

“What exactly are you doing here, Carolyn?” Eve finally managed to ask. 

 

“Well, actually, I wanted to have a little chat about the future of your career. And Villanelle’s, by extension. Which, I’m sorry, dear, but do you have a shirt or something you could toss on?” 

 

Villanelle arched an eyebrow at Carolyn, silently challenging her to see who the more dominant personality in the room was. Instead of answering her, Villanelle grabbed a pillow from the opposite side of the couch and plopped it on top of her chest so that her pink lace bra was no longer visible, and hugged it to her like a pouting child. Carolyn nodded, seemingly satisfied. 

 

“I’m sorry, but I think it’s going to be a little difficult for me to actually have a career seeing as I’m dead,” Eve said, spitting out the last word with as much resentment as she could muster.

 

“Oh, so Niko told you? You must have given him quite the fright when you showed up in your house,” Carolyn said, her eyes bright as if she were trying to hold back a laugh. “Now don’t be cross, Eve, you and I both know that it was for the better.” 

 

“Oh, oh, okay,” Eve said, laughing through her pure frustration. “So it’s for the better that all my friends, all my family, my  _ mother _ for God’s sake, think that I’m dead? They’ve been mourning me this whole time, and I didn’t even know it. That’s for the better?”

 

“Well have you considered the alternative?” Carolyn said calmly, clasping her hands together in her lap. “Becuase the alternative would be that you’d currently be in jail for, oh let’s see, murder, aiding a fugitive, fleeing from the police, assault on a medical staffer, theft, identity theft, and now being an accomplice to murder. Or are you still so arrogant that you believe that there are no consequences to your actions?” 

 

Eve connected the dots of what she was saying, realizing that her movements had been, despite what she and Villanelle had believed, tracked carefully all along. Carolyn seemed to know everything that had happened since they parted ways in Rome. And it was utterly infuriating. 

 

“That’s not fair,” Eve replied stubbornly, struggling to think of a good reason as to why she shouldn’t be carted off to jail.

 

“It’s the very definition of fair, Eve,” Carolyn said. “You’ve chosen to go down a very dark, very treacherous path, and whether you realize it yet or not, it’s better for your loved ones to think you have passed and remember you for who you were than it would be for you to drag them down into the darkness with you.” 

 

Eve blinked, speechless.

 

“Besides, it’s standard procedure,” Carolyn continued. 

 

“Standard procedure for what?”

 

“Ugh,” Villanelle, who had been uncharateristically silent up until this point, groaned. “To make you an assassin, Eve. Keep up.”

 

Eve looked back at Villanelle, almost having forgotten that she was even there.

 

“Wait, you think that…but Carolyn, you’re not...you’re...oh my God,” Eve said, the realization of it all smacking her in the face. “You’re a part of The Twelve.”

 

Carolyn said nothing. She never did when someone tried to speculate her true motives. She only crossed her arms in front of her, looking as self assured as ever.

 

“I...fucking...knew it! I knew it! I-” Eve realized she had begun shouting. “Sorry, I just...I fucking knew it. So, have you been with them this whole time? Or did they approach you at some point? And does that make you a double agent? Or is the government involved with this all the way up to the top? Do you…”

 

Carolyn cleared her throat, signaling Eve to stop her feverish rambling. 

 

“It’s in your best interest not to ask questions, Eve.”

 

“Right. Right, okay. But then Villanelle was right? The Twelve want me to work for them?”

 

Carolyn pursed her lips in disapproval at Eve.

 

“I have to be able to ask  _ some _ questions, Carolyn.”

 

Carolyn sighed.

 

“Fine. But would you at least sit down? I don’t like to be towered over.” 

 

Eve was absolutely buzzing with curiosity, but she forced some composure upon herself and moved to sit on the arm of the couch Villanelle was still lounging on. Why was she being so  _ quiet  _ and  _ calm _ ? The first time Villanelle had figured that The Twelve had sought Eve out, she had killed a stranger just to vent some of her frustration. And now she was just...chill about it? Despite all of the new information being thrown at her, Eve kept finding herself glancing in Villanelle’s direction, waiting for her to react, to do  _ something _ . 

 

Or maybe Eve kept stealing glances at her becuase just a few moments ago they had been all over each other and Eve was definitely still riled up about it. 

 

You know. Either, or. 

 

“Now,” Carolyn began, pulling Eve back into the present. “I think this might work better if I say my piece first, and we save any questions from the class until the end. Okay?” 

 

It wasn’t really okay, but Eve nodded in agreement anyhow. 

 

“Alright. First things first, I want you to understand that an offer, by whoever it might be, hasn’t been officially made yet. You’ve shown promising ability, Eve, but the fact is that no one can be sure of your potential until you’ve completed, shall we say, a trial run. A chance to prove that you can do the job. Do you understand?”

 

_ Trial run? What did that...oh!  _

 

Eve got up and retrieved the postcard from her jacket pocket. 

 

“So...this? This is the trial run?”

 

Carolyn’s eyes landed on Villanelle, knowing that she must have clued her in before Carolyn had a chance to. Villanelle stared back at her, expression unreadable.

 

“Once I know that you two can work together effectively by completing the job, we can discuss further logistics.”

 

Villanelle lurched out of her laying position, the pillow she had been concealing herself with tumbling to the floor.

 

“What do you mean together?” she asked. 

 

Carolyn looked at Villanelle with slight disapproval. Villanelle groaned, and picked the pillow up, covering herself once again.

 

“You’d be working as a team, naturally.”

 

“But I thought The Twelve wanted me dead,” Villanelle protested.

 

“Oh, they do. A lot of people do, actually. But certain parties have been persuaded to believe that you might be of better use alive, as was proved by the Peel situation.”

 

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Eve interrupted. “So Aaron Peel, that wasn’t just about tricking me into getting Villanelle to kill him to save the government some cyberterrorism hassles?”

 

“Oh, come off it, Eve. You really didn’t suspect that you weren’t being gently pushed towards some greater end all along?”

 

Eve shrugged, perplexed.

 

“No?” 

 

“Really?” Carolyn replied. “I thought you more clever than that. But never mind, I”ll let your lack of foresight go due to...distractions,” her eyes flitted to Villanelle, “The point is, yes, you were being tested. The both of you. You see, separately, you’re rather useless. Villanelle is reckless, and unwilling to follow orders, and you...well, you’re much the same. But with a bit less blood shed, admittedly. Together, however, you become rather manageable, if guided in the right direction. You know, when you aren’t stabbing random cabbies.”

 

Carolyn gave Villanelle a pointed look. Villanelle shrugged innocently, concealing a grin behind her pillow.

 

“Now I know what Villanelle is capable of. But Eve, I’m not sure if you have the stomach for this. Your behaviour became rather erratic after Raymond.” 

 

“Don’t worry about Eve,” Villanelle said. “I can take care of her.” 

 

“You don’t listen when people speak, do you?” Carolyn said in the same tone she used when she was scolding Kenny. 

 

Villanelle blinked, a flash of familiar and unpredictable darkness in her eyes. Eve tensed, bracing for the impending outburst, in whatever form it may take. But, much to her surprise, Villanelle only sighed, obviously pushing some impulse away. 

 

“I need you to sit this one out, Villanelle. You can help from the sidelines, but it has to be Eve that completes the job. Or the whole deal gets thrown out. Do you both understand?” 

 

Villanelle looked to Eve, searching her face for an answer. Villanelle had told her, in the diner, that she believed that she could do this. And perhaps she still did believe that, Eve couldn’t be sure. But Villanelle was leaving it up to Eve to decide. She was silently putting Eve in control. 

 

There was so much rocketing around in Eve’s mind. The death of her old life, the realization of just how far down the rabbit hole she had fallen, the impending choice of whether or not she would allow herself to keep falling, or to essentially turn herself in and leave Villanelle on her own, once again. 

 

And in the end, that was all that mattered to Eve, she realized. The choice wasn’t about whether or not she would accept this new fate. She already had, in a way, through her actions. The question now was whether or not she could leave Villanelle alone in the world, once again. The question was if she was worth it. 

 

“Okay,” Eve finally said, the simple two syllable word holding endless depths within it. 

 

Villanelle’s throat clenched as she swallowed past whatever emotion had come bubbling to the surface. Her eyes misted over. 

 

But, just as quickly as it came, the moment was gone. And Villanelle’s focus was back on Carolyn.

 

“What’s the pay?” she asked. 

 

Carolyn let a slight smile form on her lips. After all, she knew exactly who she was dealing with. 

 

“I can secure the same pay rate you were working under before you went independent with Konstantin.” 

 

Villanelle narrowed her eyes at Carolyn. 

 

“No. We’d be splitting it two ways, so you will just have to double the rate to make it even worth our time.” 

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“What, like you can’t afford it?”

 

Carolyn blinked. 

 

“Fine. Your regular rate, plus ten percent.”

 

“Twenty five. With the option to renegotiate after the first three kills. You know I do good work. Eve will do even better.” 

 

The two women stared each other down for a moment. Eve, who had never even asked for a raise in all her years at MI5 becuase she was afraid to ‘rock the boat’, could only look on.

 

“Fair enough. We wiped your old laptop, so you’ll need this,” Carolyn said, procuring a thin laptop from her bag and placing it on the desk next to her. 

 

“What about a handler?” Villanelle asked. 

 

“With your record? No one wants to come near you.”

 

“What about Konstantin?”

 

“He’s...on a holiday. You may see each other again, but it will not be through us. You two will have to just handle yourselves.”

 

“But what if…” Eve began to interject, but a fierce look from Carolyn shut her up instantly. 

 

“Understand,” Carolyn began, “that neither I nor anyone else involved in this cares if you two live or die. If this turns out to be a successful business venture, then so be it. If not, then you were only on borrowed time anyhow. So take care of each other, or don’t. It’s no longer my problem.” She stood, and headed towards the door. “You have two days to complete the job. That is, to prove you’re worth keeping alive, and then someone will contact you with further instructions.” She looked directly at Eve. “Good luck.” 

 

Carolyn let herself out of the hotel room, and Eve realized that that may very well have been the last time she would ever see her. 

 

Eve got up, feeling propelled by nerves and adrenaline to move, to do  _ something _ , but all she could do was slump against the wall behind her with a heavy sigh that buzzed through her lips, feeling completely overwhelmed. 

 

“Well that went pretty well, I think!” Villanelle said, her oddly cheerful voice cutting through the numbing static in Eve’s mind. “Huh? We’re partners, now! It’s cool, right?” 

 

It took a moment for Villanelle to realize that Eve wasn’t as elated as she was. She looked at her curiously, and when Eve still neglected to speak, Villanelle got up from the couch and moved to stand in front of Eve, searching her eyes.

 

“Hey. Are you okay?” she asked. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m,” Eve’s voice trembled. “I’m fine. No, you’re...you’re right. This is good. It’s great. It’s…” 

 

Villanelle seemed disappointed that Eve was not as enthusiastic as she was. But they had done this dance before, Villanelle plowing ahead with her plans of their life together, and Eve struggling to keep up, to cope. And Eve knew what happened next, according to history…

 

Eve braced for Villanelle’s outburst, knowing she could expect anything from a screaming fit to the final, fatal blow that would end Eve’s journey just as soon as it started. 

 

But none of that happened. Instead, Villanelle moved to cup Eve’s face with a gentle hand, eyes kind, sympathetic. 

 

“Hey,” she said. “I get it. Or, at least, I think I do. When I got recruited, my life was pretty much over. I was set to rot in a cell for the rest of my life. I didn’t have anything to say goodbye to. But you...you do. So...I’m sorry.”

 

Eve couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was misplaced, and wrong, but it was all she could do. 

 

“Empathy is a new look for you,” she said. 

 

“I know. You like it?” 

 

“I don’t hate it,” Eve replied, feeling that familiar heat in her gut rising as Villanelle looked at her like  _ that _ . 

 

Eve took a deep breath, feeling herself coming back from the brink of panic. She would be okay. They would be okay. They could do this. She…

 

“Oh my god, we have two days,” Eve said, and rocketed away from the wall, Villanelle having to jump out of her way as Eve grabbed the postcard and then the laptop. “ _Two_ _days_. Two fucking days. To get to Spain, find the mark, kill him, oh God I have to kill him. Or her. I...how the hell do you work this thing?”

 

Eve was staring at a black screen on the laptop. It had no other prompts on it other than a single cursor blinking in the middle of it, waiting for some kind of entry. 

 

“Enter in the number at the top of the postcard,” Villanelle said, still hovering over where Eve was standing a minute ago, a bit perplexed. 

 

Eve punched in the numbers, and in a second something akin to a file appeared. Okay, definitely a man. Thank God. She didn’t know if she could kill a woman. Not without good reason. Although, man or woman, without something compelling her to need to kill someone, be it fear or anger, she didn’t know if she could…

 

_ You will die if you don’t do this in two days, Eve. Let that be your reason. _

 

“Uh, Eve?” Villanelle asked, moving to stand behind Eve as she sat on the bed, scrolling furiously through the file, trying to get her bearings on what exactly she was looking at. 

 

“He’s a diplomat. He’s staying at a swanky looking villa just outside Madrid. So how would…” 

 

Villanelle rested a hand on Eve’s shoulder, pulling herself onto the bed behind her. 

 

“Eve?” she asked again, this time her voice deeper, more insistent, and admittedly sexy as hell. 

 

“Hmm?” Eve asked, scribbling down notes on a pad of paper that had been on the nightstand. 

 

Villanelle brought her mouth to Eve’s ear.

 

“We were kind of in the middle of something a minute ago,” she whispered. It sent a chill down Eve’s spine. 

 

“I...I know,” she stammered. “I haven’t forgotten.” She groaned in frustration, knowing that neither of them were going to get what they wanted, no matter how badly she wanted it. “But...but I only have two days to figure this out, or we’re dead. That’s the priority right now.” 

 

“Eve,” Villanelle teased. “What are you so worried about? We have two whole days to get in, bag the guy, and get out. Easy stuff.”

 

“Yeah, for  _ you _ ,” Eve said, pretending not to notice Villanelle’s delicate fingers moving to grip her waist. She stared at the screen with as much focus as she could muster. “But this is all new to me. I need to figure out a plan.”

 

“So I’ll help you.”

 

“You heard what Carolyn said.  _ I  _ have to do this. And besides, what works for you might not work for me. If I’m not comfortable with the plan I could do something stupid and screw the whole thing up.” 

 

“So, what you’re saying,” Villanelle murmured, resting her chin on Eve’s shoulder, “is that I need to make you feel more  _ comfortable _ ? I can do that.” 

 

Eve inhaled the scent of Villanelle’s perfume, feeling herself getting lost in it and in her touch. 

 

Eve made herself shake it off.

 

“Nope, nope. Plan first,” she said, and got up from the bed and moved to the desk in hopes she’d be less distracted that way. She turned to look back at Villanelle, who was only pouting a little bit. “Sorry.”

 

“No you’re not,” Villanelle replied, wanting to seem vexed with her but unable to hold back a chuckle. “I get it. It’s important. I can wait…” She got up to retrieve her shirt from the bathroom. “So, what’s the plan, then?”

 

Eve let out a nervous, excited laugh as she looked at the picture of the man she would kill.

 

She had no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yeah I deleted my previous drama rant bc who tf cares anyway lol)
> 
> As a whole, the feedback and comments I've gotten from you guys has been really amazing and reaffirming and is the whole reason why I find time in my 60+ hour work weeks to write this and my other WIP. So, in case it wasn't clear, I love you guys so much! And thank you for everything! Come chat with me on my tumblr (@ schatzietess) and if you are so inclined, check out my other villaneve WIP, an AU called "Wanna Kill My Wife?" 
> 
> Have a great week!!!  
> -Tess


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE VILLANELLE POV. Also this chapter is long as shit so maybe stretch ya necks or something halfway through

Villanelle let out a long, slow sigh. The room was dark, save for the glow from the television in front of her, and the computer screen in front of Eve, who was regretfully, painfully, far away from her. Villanelle wondered at the fact that this was the longest the two of them had been in the same room together. Wondered at how so much of her life had been retooled in the span of a few short months just for one woman.

 

Who was, again, painfully far away from her. 

 

Villanelle had gotten used to it, though. The distance. It was simply their way. Villanelle could be halfway across the world from Eve and still feel her as if she were right there next to her. And Eve seemed to revel in the distance. Well, that wasn’t quite right. She reveled in the  _ chase _ . She always had to be one step away from Villanelle; ahead, behind, it didn’t matter. Eve seemed to be at her most comfortable with Villanelle when she was just out of reach.

 

She wondered if that should concern her. 

 

She had loved the chase, too. Of course she had. It was what first made Villanelle so enraptured with Eve in the first place. She had always,  _ always _ , been the predator. Never the prey. And having Eve at her heels had been thrilling, and intoxicating, and arousing, and…

 

Temporary. That part of them had come to an end. Villanelle felt it, hell, she made it so. She had insisted upon it through sheer will. She didn’t want to be just out of Eve’s reach anymore.

 

Villanelle wanted to be in reach. She wanted to be caught, touched, held.

 

She wanted  _ everything _ .

 

And maybe she had it. Or would have it. She couldn’t be sure. Because here she was, in an only mildly impressive hotel suite, with one big bed for the two of them to share before they began their adventure as partners in crime, what Villanelle had dreamed of since she first saw in Eve’s eyes that same flickering fire that she had only ever recognized in her own reflection…

 

And Eve chose to sleep in an office chair, hunched over a laptop. 

 

Well, technically Eve had fallen asleep in her office chair on accident. It was late after all. But still. 

 

Villanelle felt frozen in place, unable to decide what to do next. As she was now, she had arranged the pillows on the bed around her in such a manner that she could comfortably sit up and watch Eve work. She had told herself she was serving a purpose that way. After all, Eve might have a question to ask of her here or there as she created her plan. But Eve was deep asleep now, so she was left with two options: either shrug off the whole thing and go to sleep,  _ alone _ , or go and get that stubborn woman and drag her to bed already before she got a cramp in her neck. 

 

What would Eve want her to do? 

 

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Villanelle didn’t  _ know _ . 

 

She sighed dramatically again. Regular people were easy to figure out. They were driven by one of four things: money, food, power, or sex. Villanelle had often pondered if power and sex fell under the same category, but she had been proven wrong once or twice. She was  _ usually _ right about what any given person was being driven by at any given time. She could read people like they were children’s books: predictable, simple, boring. 

 

Eve was none of those things. She had all the same motivations as any other person, sure, but she went after them in erratic ways. Ways that weren’t quite typical, and weren’t quite like Villanelle herself either. Villanelle had always surmised that Eve was either one or the other: like her, or like everyone else. But she was realizing Eve fell somewhere in the middle. And that duality was damn near impossible for her to navigate. 

 

_ God, just go to sleep, you useless thing, _ she thought, both to herself and to Eve.

 

But she couldn’t. Not when Eve was slumped over a now black computer screen, starting to snore, and in a position that would surely make her sore in the morning. 

 

_ This, _ Villanelle thought to herself helplessly.  _ This is the woman you gave up your life for _ . 

 

And honestly? She wouldn’t have it any other way. Eve was a mess. But she was  _ her _ mess. Villanelle thought herself almost pathetic for knowing that she would likely follow this woman anywhere. No matter how many times Eve stumbled, or took a wrong turn. No matter how many times she pushed VIllanelle away only to pull her in again, or made her absolutely crazy in her indecision of which she wanted...

 

“Ugh,” Villanelle groaned to herself, and pushed her tower of pillows away from her with a dramatic slap of her hand. She got up and crossed the room over to Eve, shutting the laptop and looking down at her companion. 

 

_ Ugh _ .

 

“Eve,” she murmured, agitated and annoyingly smitten all at once. “Eve, come on. You need to sleep.” 

 

Eve jolted awake, throwing her head back as she straightened up in the chair so suddenly she almost knocked her skull against Villanelle’s forehead.

 

“Air in a syringe!” she blurted out, as if finishing a sentence she had begun before she drifted off.

 

Villanelle tilted her head.

 

“Yeah, that could work. But you have to be able to find a vein on the first go. People don’t usually let you stick them with a needle twice.”

 

Eve blinked, looking around the room, clearly having forgotten where she was.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

Villanelle shook her head. 

 

“Nothing. Come on. Come to bed.” 

 

“N-no. I need to…” Eve said, grabbing at the laptop again. 

 

“Eve,” Villanelle soothed, pushing the laptop farther away from her on the desk. “If you don’t get some sleep, you are not going to be able to think straight. Okay? First thing tomorrow we will get a train, we’ll find a place to settle in in Madrid, iron out the plan, and in two days time you will feel like a pro. Okay?” 

 

“Oh…” Eve replied in a sleepy sigh, already threatening to drifting off again. “Okay,” she said, and only half consciously allowed Villanelle to lead her to the bed, pull back the covers for her, and cover her back up when she dropped into the bed with a dramatic ‘thwump’. 

 

Villanelle then walked around to the other side of the bed, gingerly crawled under the covers and settled in, turning to look at her unusual companion, now sleeping soundly next to her, her thick curls illuminated by the remaining glow of the television and the moonlight. 

 

Villanelle shut the TV off. 

 

“Goodnight, Eve,” she whispered, and drifted off to sleep. 

 

*

 

The soft light of daybreak streamed lazily in through the window. Villanelle blinked the blurriness out of her sleep ridden eyes, and turned over in bed to see that Eve was…

 

Gone. 

 

Of course she was. 

 

With a groan, Villanelle pulled herself into a sitting position, gazing slowly around the room. She heard the bathroom door creak open. Eve emerged, wearing the same outfit as she had on yesterday, and unraveled the towel from on top of her head so her damp curls came tumbling down around her shoulders. She gave Villanelle a tentative look.

 

Oh, it was too early for this. 

 

“So. I didn’t logistically realize how far away Madrid is.”

 

“Okay?” Villanelle asked, not ready for Eve to already be fully awake and in one of her moods. 

 

“ _ Okay _ , so, it’s a 25 hour train ride. That’s a whole day gone. Should we get a flight?”

 

“Do you have your passport?” 

 

Eve frowned.

 

“No.”

 

“No,” Villanelle reiterated. “And even if you did, it wouldn’t get you very far. You’re dead, remember?”

 

Eve sighed.

 

“Right. Okay. Then we drive.” 

 

Villanelle rolled her eyes, flopping back onto the bed.

 

“You really want to be stuck in a car for all that time just to save a few hours of travel?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Eve,” Villanelle groaned. “If we get a train you will have the whole ride to figure out how you want to kill this guy. Okay? The reality of the situation is that you only need to be in the same room as him for a minute or so for you to, you know,” Villanelle mimed slitting her throat with her finger. 

 

“I know that, Villanelle. But I’ll just...I’ll feel better if we get there as soon as possible so I can get this over with.”

 

Villanelle felt her face scrunch up with confusion.

 

“Get it over with?” she asked. “Eve, come on. This job is supposed to be  _ fun _ .”

 

Eve dropped her hands to her sides dramatically. 

 

“Is it? Because I feel anxious as shit.” 

 

“Can I offer a piece of advice?” Villanelle asked. 

 

Eve dropped herself onto the bed, slight circles under her eyes as she looked up at the ceiling. 

 

“Shoot,” she said. 

 

“If it’s causing you so much distress to think about it then just...don’t think about it.”

 

Eve scoffed. 

 

“Don’t think about it?” 

 

“Yes,” Villanelle replied. “Look, I plan out my kills becuase that is what I enjoy doing. I like the buildup, you know? But...if it’s stressing you out so much to come up with the perfect plan, then just...don’t. Just...pick a weapon to bring with you, and wing it.” 

 

Eve blinked, looking up at Villanelle, who was hovering over her now, watching her face closely.

 

“Wing it?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“You want me to wing sneaking into the home of a diplomat so I can assassinate him?”

 

“Yep.” 

 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

 

Villanelle shrugged.

 

“Not really. Not for you. You are good at being impulsive.” 

 

“Huh. Well…” She moved to sit up. Villanelle scooched back to give her her space “Okay. I won’t think about it. For now. But we really should get a move on. So. You ready to go?” 

 

“Ugh,” Villanelle groaned, throwing her face dramatically into her pillow. “You are  _ exhausting _ .” 

 

“What? Train leaves at eleven and we need clothes and some gear before we leave.” 

 

_ She isn’t going to slow down any time soon, is she?  _ Villanelle asked herself. Resigned, she pulled herself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. 

 

“Gear?” Villanelle asked in a dry tone, leaving the door open so she could continue to listen to Eve’s ramblings as she undressed. 

 

If Eve chose to look that was on her. If she decided to do something about that, well, Villanelle certainly wouldn’t protest.

 

“Yeah, you know. Tactical gear. Weapons, binoculars...Oh! We should get earpieces so we can communicate.”

 

“Why, Eve,” Villanelle replied, poking her head out the bathroom door just enough so that Eve was forced to notice that Villanelle had undressed entirely. “Do you miss our little late night talks?”

 

Eve knew  _ exactly _ which late night talk she was referring to. Villanelle knew it by the way Eve blushed deeply.

 

_ So she had been listening, _ Villanelle thought.

 

“I...well,” Eve stammered. “I’m just saying that they would be put to good use.” 

 

Villanelle’s lips pulled themselves into a sly smirk.

 

“Not to burst your bubble, Eve,” she replied, stepping back into the bathroom and turning on the water in the shower. “But if you don’t work for the government you can’t just get those things. There’s no Spy Mart, you know?” 

 

Eve was forced to walk closer to the bathroom door so they could still hear each other. Despite Villanelle’s projected confidence, she felt her resolve crumbling. She wished Eve would just stop talking for five whole minutes so they could get back to what they had been in the middle of last night before Carolyn had interrupted...

 

“Okay. Yeah, you’re right,” Eve pressed on. “God, didn’t your bosses ever supply you with this kind of stuff? You know, fake ID’s, passports, weapons, that kind of thing?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Villanelle replied, gasping quietly to herself as the slightly-too-cold water of the shower jolted her awake and shocked some of the lust out of her. You know, seeing as Eve apparently  _ refused _ to be tempted at the moment. “But they are  _ really _ testing you with this one. They did something similar to me shortly after Konstantin pulled me out of prison. Gave me an assignment with no tools or backup, to see what I would come up with.” 

 

Her voice sounded too high. Okay, maybe the water was too cold. Villanelle turned the temperature up to her satisfaction and felt the tension she was carrying in her back and shoulders relax as she stood under the hot water. Though she couldn’t help but think that this would be more enjoyable if she had some company…

 

“Right. So, then, what can we do?” Eve asked.

 

“Eve!” Villanelle burst, unable to contain her aggravation. “If you are going to keep asking me questions either join me in here or wait until I’m done, okay?” 

 

Eve went silent, perhaps thinking over her options. 

  
Villanelle was hopeful for a moment.

 

“Right. Sorry.” Eve said, and Villanelle could hear her retreat back to the main part of the hotel room.

 

And the moment was gone.

 

Villanelle sighed. She knew that Eve was on edge, but this whole routine of dancing around each other without either of them getting  _ any _ satisfaction out of it was becoming exhausting.

 

Villanelle would get what she wanted, though. She always did. She just had to be patient.

 

If that was possible.

 

*

 

“Okay, burner phones?” 

 

“Check.”

 

“Binoculars?”

 

“Check.”

 

Villanelle twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, not trying at all to hide her boredom as Eve read off her little assassin shopping list from where she sat on the bed of their double sleeper room on the train. 

 

“Are you even looking to make sure we have everything or are you just saying ‘check’ every time I speak?”

 

Villanelle made eye contact with Eve, letting the lock of her hair fall back against her shoulder. 

 

“Check,” she said. 

 

Eve rolled her eyes.

 

“How did you manage to get us through the gate without proper ID’s, anyhow?” Eve asked.

 

Villanelle shrugged. 

 

“I have my ways. How did you manage to pay for all this stuff  _ and _ the train tickets?” 

 

Eve narrowed her eyes at Villanelle. 

 

“I have my ways.” 

 

_ Oh, so you’re gonna be  _ that _ way, _ Villanelle thought.

 

Eve visibly softened. 

 

“Actually, you can thank Niko for that,” Eve said. Villanelle bristled. She did not want to hear that name. “He gave me a chunk of my life insurance settlement as a payoff to keep away from him.” 

 

Oh, Villanelle would kill him one day.

 

“Arsehole,” Villanelle spat. 

 

Eve shrugged.

 

“I don’t blame him for being a dick about it. You did kill his girlfriend, after all.”

 

“Well? She was annoying!” 

 

“Yeah,” Eve said with an amused chuckle. “I know.” She cleared her throat, refocusing herself. “Bluetooth headset?”

 

Villanelle searched through one of the shopping bags. 

 

“Check.” 

 

“You really think that will work?”

 

“It should. With that hair, no one will notice a little earpiece. Just keep your phone in your pocket and on silent and we can talk to each other through the headset. No one will be the wiser.” 

  
“Ugh, have I mentioned how much I  _ love _ that this dress has pockets?” Eve groaned with satisfaction as she yanked the dress bag onto the bed. 

 

“Did you pick a weapon?” Villanelle asked, wondering if it was weird that she felt a little turned on by the idea of Eve weapon shopping when they had split up that morning to complete Eve’s silly little ‘to do’ list before getting on the train. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Eve said, and sifted through the bags at her feet until she procured an elegant looking pocket knife. “Nothing too fancy. Should do the job.” 

 

“What? No axe?” Villanelle teased. 

 

Eve pointed the knife at her in an empty threat. 

 

“That is not funny yet,” she said. 

 

Villanelle smiled. 

 

“It’s a little funny.”

 

Villanelle felt a sudden yearning pull in her chest. Why did this feel so...domestic? She felt like if she spent the rest of her life teasing Eve about her murder track record while they sat in cozy train cars on the way to their next kill, that she might just be the happiest assasin in the world.

 

God, she was getting so  _ soft _ .  

 

Eve sighed, looking down at the knife, and then back at Villanelle.

 

“You really think I can pull this off?” 

 

“Of course I do,” Villanelle replied without hesitation. 

 

Eve stared into Villanelle’s eyes, licking her lips.

 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” she said. 

 

“Get used to what?” Villanelle replied, trying not to notice that she was all but holding her breath in anticipation of Eve’s response. 

 

“The way you look at me.” 

 

Villanelle swallowed hard, her hands beginning to tremble with anticipation in her lap. Eve was offering her an invitation. And Villanelle wasn’t going to decline it. 

 

The room was small, no more than four feet wide and eight feet long. Which meant that from where Villanelle sat in the small arm chair across from the bunk beds, of which Eve was sitting on the lower part of, she could cross the distance between them simply by getting out of the chair and taking one step until she was leaning over the lower bunk. Villanelle placed her hands on the mattress, one on each side of Eve, so that she was hovering over her. She could hear Eve suck in a breath, looking up at her with eyes that feigned innocence yet begged Villanelle to tempt her further all at the same time. 

 

Villanelle dipped her face lower towards Eve’s as she stood over her, bringing them as close as she dared, and staying there, lips barely grazing Eve’s, unmoving.

 

_ If you want this, Eve,  _ she thought.  _ You’re going to have to reach out and take it.  _

 

And she did. Before Villanelle could even begin to doubt if she had pushed Eve too far yet again or not, Eve had grabbed the back of Villanelle’s neck and pulled her in, kissing her so roughly that Villanelle realized that Eve had been just as frustrated as her, she had just been better at hiding it. 

 

Villanelle pulled her lips away for a moment, Eve chasing after them with her own before being stilled by VIllanelle bringing a hand to her face and tracing her jawline with a gentle stroke of her thumb. Villanelle would not be rushed. She would take her time with Eve, as much time as she needed to get it right. 

 

Eve let out a labored breath, and waited. She understood that at this moment, Villanelle wanted the control. She  _ needed _ the control, after spending these past few weeks following Eve around like a puppy, trying to win her back through her kindness, her submission. It had gone against every instinct within Villanelle to behave so, and now she felt all that she had pent up starting to spill out like blood from a slit throat. 

 

“Are you going to give me what I want, Eve?” Villanelle asked her, her voice almost a growl. 

 

Eve nodded, her pupils dilated, her breathing slow and heavy. 

 

“I need to hear it.” 

 

“Yes,” Eve breathed. 

 

Villanelle sighed contentedly.

 

“Good.” 

 

She clicked her tongue, letting her eyes flit about the room, deciding that the bottom bunk of a sleeper car was far too cramped of a space for her to work with. She straightened, standing over Eve, and gestured with her eyes to the chair across from them.

 

“Sit,” she instructed. 

 

Eve rose slowly, eyes locked on Villanelle’s, and sat down in the chair, spreading her legs slightly in a silent invitation. Villanelle grinned darkly. Obedience looked so good on her. 

 

She moved to climb into Eve’s lap, a luxurious heat building deep within her. She rested one hand on the back of Eve’s neck and the other on Eve’s thigh. 

 

“Unbutton your blouse, please,” Villanelle said. 

 

Eve brought her own shaking hands to the top button of her blouse, hastily working through them. 

 

“Ah,” Villanelle corrected, bringing a pausing hand to Eve’s. “Slowly,” she said, and placed her hand back where it had been resting on Eve’s thigh. 

 

Eve swallowed, eyes locking on Villanelle’s once again, the insistence in her voice bringing a focus and calm to her hands so that they ceased their shaking, and slowly undid the buttons, one by one, until her shirt hung open, exposing her breasts and the shallow scar on her stomach. Villanelle willed herself to maintain slow, steady breaths, to appear composed and decisive even if she was fighting back every urge she had to close the distance between them and overwhelm Eve all at once. 

 

“Now mine,” she said, cursing herself inwardly as she heard her voice crack. 

 

Eve moved her hands to the top button of Villanelle’s blouse, setting a torturously slow pace as she undid them one by one. The silk shirt was a loose fit, so much so that when the last button was undone it slipped off of Villanelle’s shoulders and pooled itself around her waist. Eve’s hands clenched with a need to move independently of Villanelle’s commands. Her fingertips traced their way up the sides of VIllanelle’s stomach, up to her collarbone and to her shoulders. Villanelle’s body reacted instinctively, grinding her hips into Eve’s. Eve moaned, her hips bucking slightly into the contact. She pulled herself closer to Villanelle to try and kiss her. Villanelle pulled back. 

 

“Eve,” she scolded softly, “Did I say you could touch me?” 

 

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Eve retorted in a breathy voice. 

  
Villanelle tilted her head, her brow furrowing down at Eve, insisting on her compliance. Eve retreated back against the chair dutifully. 

 

“Good. Hands at your sides.” Eve obeyed. Villanelle took the hand she had placed at the back of Eve’s neck and used it to pull her dark curls to one side, exposing her throat. She lowered her mouth to Eve’s pulse point, slowly. “Now keep them there until I tell you otherwise,” she whispered.

 

Villanelle pressed her lips to Eve’s throat. Then her tongue, and then her teeth. Eve moaned, pressing her hands tighter to her sides in a desperate attempt to restrain them. 

 

“Mm, good girl,” Villanelle purred, and grasped Eve’s chin lightly so she could bring her face to meet hers and, unable to stand her own set pace anymore, brought their lips together with poorly contained desperation. Eve’s hips bucked again. Villanelle did not try to scold her this time. She tangled her fingers into Eve’s curls, deciding which parts of her to focus her attention on first…

 

Until the buzzer of their locked door went off. 

 

“Why does that keep happening?” Villanelle hissed. 

 

It buzzed again.

 

“The ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign is on the door for a reason!” she shouted.

 

“Villanelle?” asked  the person on the other side of the door. 

 

His voice was unmistakably familiar. Eve and Villanellle looked at each other in shock.

 

_ Shit _ . 

 

Villanelle, regretfully, pulled herself off of Eve’s lap and opened the door just a crack. 

 

“Are you serious right now?” 

 

“Hello again, my friend,” Konstantin said, a smug grin on his face. “Have I come at a bad time?” 

 

“How did you know I was on this train?” Villanelle demanded.

 

“What’s that English expression? Oh,  _ a little birdy told me _ , that you were on your way to Spain for a job. Now, if you could step outside for a moment, we need to have a talk.”

 

“No.” 

 

“Please?”

 

“Ugh!” Villanelle exclaimed, knowing he wouldn’t leave her alone until she agreed. She turned back to Eve. “Don’t move,” she said. 

 

“Hello, Eve!” Konstantin said in an annoyingly gleeful tone as Villanelle threw her shirt back on hastily and shut the door behind her, leaving her and her old handler alone in the hallway.

 

“The next person who interrupts me and Eve in the middle of it is getting stabbed in the eye. You hear me, Konstantin?” 

 

“Oh, don’t act so sorry for yourself. You will have plenty of time for that later.” 

 

“What do you want?” Villanelle pressed, impatient. 

 

“To warn you. You-”   
  


“Stop right there,” Villanelle interrupted. “I am not your charge anymore. Okay? So I don’t want or need your little warnings and speeches anymore. We’re done. It was nice to see you, now have a nice life, and let me get back to mine.”

 

“Do you think she can go through with it?” Konstantin asked, unphased by her protests.

 

“With what?” 

 

“With the kill, of course.”

 

“Of course she can.”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Yes!” Villanelle insisted. “She’s already done it, after all.”

 

Konstantin chuckled.

 

“Yeah. I heard about Raymond. What a mess.” 

 

Villanelle remembered the blood spray, the chunks of brain and skin and flying off of the blade of Eve’s axe. She couldn’t help but join Konstantin in his laughter. 

 

“It was. It was  _ such _ a mess,” she laughed. “Which is exactly why she will do just fine. Okay? Now stop worrying about her, or me.” 

 

“This is different, though. You know that. Lightning may not be able to strike twice in her. And if it doesn’t...you won’t live long enough for me to say I told you so.”

 

“I will be there to help her.”

 

“But not to intervene. That’s the key. They will know if you do. It is your job to keep her focused on the task. And as of right now you are only distracting her. Hmm?” he said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. 

 

“First of all, that’s none of your business. Second, I am helping her relax. You know? To get her out of her own head. Trust me, that’s what she needs.” 

 

“I’m not so sure.”

 

“You don’t know her like I do.”

 

“No, but I know the job. You forget, Villanelle, that there was a time that you were not sure if you could do this, either. And do you remember what I did to keep you on track before a kill?” 

 

Villanelle sighed, refusing to answer. 

 

“I gave you an incentive to do what I asked. Hmm? Yes? I kept something that you wanted from you until you completed the job. You know, like holding out a carrot for a horse. And it worked, didn’t it?” 

 

“Eve’s not a horse, Konstantin. That’s a terrible metaphor.” 

 

“You know I’m right. So, what can you withhold from Eve to motivate her to complete the kill?” 

 

Konstantin grinned. Villanelle’s eyes widened.

 

“No.”

 

“Yes..”

 

“Absolutely not, Konstantin. You cannot be  _ serious _ right now.” 

 

“I am. It’s what you have to do. Besides, you really think your new boss will take either of you seriously if you spend the entirety of your first mission acting like horny teenagers?” 

 

Villanelle groaned.

 

“Do you know how long it took me to get here? I have got Eve goddamn Polastri, after all this time, ready to let me do  _ whatever I want  _ to her. Do you understand how long I’ve been wanting this? And now you’re telling me to, what,  _ abstain _ ?” 

 

“Precisely.”

 

“You are one sick man, have I ever told you that?” 

 

“It will keep you both focused. I know you, Villanelle. You don’t do anything in moderation. You will wear her  _ out _ . And she needs to stay sharp.” 

 

“This is the most ridiculous conversation I have ever had in my life.” 

 

“Fine, then, go do whatever you want. But don’t be surprised when she falters because you didn’t do everything you could to bring out the best in her abilities.” 

 

Villanelle scoffed. Konstantin was way off about this. She was sure of it. He was wrong. He was so wrong...he…

 

_ Fucking shit. _

 

“Ugh!” Villanelle exclaimed, throwing her fist into the wall. “You are the worst person I have ever met!” 

 

“I love you, too. Now, I have somewhere to be.” Konstantin turned to exit the hallway and head back to the main cars of the train. Before he did so, he turned back to Villanelle. “I was glad to hear that Carolyn offered you a new job. It sure beats the alternative.”

 

“You mean being killed myself? I dunno, it’s sounding more appealing all the time.” 

 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. Take care of each other, okay?” 

 

Villanelle rested against the wall, shaking her head. It was annoying, how much Konstantin went out of his way to protect Villanelle. If it wasn’t so endearing, she would kill him herself just so he would cut it out. 

 

“Okay. Bye, Konstantin,” she said like a pouting child.

 

He smiled. And then he pulled the emergency break. The train came to a screeching halt, and he hopped off through an emergency exit, disappearing into some blank, unknown European countryside.

 

God, he was the  _ worst _ . 

 

The halt of the train must have been alarming enough for Eve to peek out the door of the sleeper car to investigate. She had hastily readorned her shirt, the buttons not lining up right. 

 

“Everything okay?” Eve asked. 

 

She wasn’t going to take Konstantin’s advice. She wasn’t. She  _ wasn’t _ . 

 

Dammit.  _ Dammit _ . 

 

“It’s fine. I need a drink. You want to get a drink?” 

 

“But I thought…” Eve faltered. 

 

_ Don’t do this to me, Eve,  _ she thought.  _ Don’t give me that pouty look. Please… _

 

“Yeah. I know. Come on, I’ll explain it over a very large glass of champagne. But you’re not gonna like it.”

 

“Which part won’t I like? The blue balls or the champagne?” 

 

Villanelle chuckled helplessly. 

 

“Don’t make jokes, it’s only going to make me more miserable.” 

 

*

 

Some champagne, a few frustrated sighs, and a resignation to focus on some recon of the villa the ambassador would be staying in, later, and night had fallen. Villanelle was laying on the top bunk of the sleeper car, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Eve was in the bottom bunk, letting out yet another sigh. 

 

“So we’re really not gonna…” Eve started to protest.

 

“Not helping, Eve.”

 

“Just becuase Konstantin told you not to?” 

 

“Eve!” 

 

“Sorry. Sorry. I just....didn’t realize he was such a strict dad.”

 

“Not funny.” 

 

Eve audibly sighed.

 

“I guess he might be right. I should be focusing on what I have to do. But... _ still _ .” 

 

Eve got up from her bunk and stood, now nearly eye level with Villanelle. Villanelle turned over in bed so they were facing each other. God, this was torture. 

 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Eve said. “I kind of agree with him. It will be good for us to be strictly professional until it’s over. I think we’ve done our best work under conditions of extreme sexual tension, don’t you?” 

 

“Eve, I have been suffering from this extreme sexual tension since the moment we met.”

 

“Mm, such a romantic,” Eve said, and moved to suddenly kiss Villanelle. It caught her off guard at first, but in a moment she felt herself sinking desperately into it, pulling herself up off of her pillow so she could bring herself closer, make the kiss deeper, dash her tongue across Eve’s lower lip in a request for further access…

 

Eve pulled away. Villanelle whimpered. 

 

“Anyway, I did manage to memorize like four different escape routes in case things get messy. There are other things I would rather be committing to memory…” she said in a low voice, eyes raking over Villanelle’s body shamelessly. “ _ But _ . It’s just one more day, right? We can restrain ourselves for one whole day, if it means doing things right.” 

 

“You’re going to be the death of me.” 

 

“Hmm, I hope so,” Eve teased, and gave Villanelle another quick peck on the lips before retreating back to her own bunk again.

 

This was definitely not how Villanelle thought this trip was going to go. 

 

*

 

_ “I feel ridiculous,”  _ Eve’s stressed sounding voice said from the speaker of Villanelle’s burner phone. 

 

Villanelle had the phone sitting next to her on the hood of the car she had stolen, on speaker so she could hear Eve ramble while she kept sight of her with the binoculars. She could see Eve approaching the side door of the villa, tugging at the hem of her very short, very red dress. 

 

“Look. I gave you two options: pretend to be an escort, or pretend to be a maid. It’s not my fault you chose escort.” 

 

_ “You think this guy really isn’t gonna be suspicious about an escort just shows up unannounced at his house?”  _

 

“You really have never met many rich men, have you?” 

 

Villanelle surveyed the property. It was an expansive two story villa, with a white stone exterior and a deeply slanted red terra cotta roof. There were tall, vaulted windows on each floor, the rich hues of light from within spilling onto the red stone patio. It was getting dark. The day was disappearing. They had to get a move on.

 

_ “Nope. Just a rich, sexy assassin,” _ Eve replied.

 

Villanelle smirked.

 

“Just kill the guy already so I can rip that dress off of you.” 

 

She didn’t miss Eve’s soft whimper.

 

_ “Is he even home? _ ” Eve asked, refocusing on the task at hand.

 

Eve was peering into the side door window, her frame illuminated only slightly from the lights from the large pool behind her. Villanelle scanned the windows, looking for signs of activity. She found the mark, sitting in what looked like his office, sipping on some expensive looking whiskey and talking on the phone. She checked the rest of the windows. No one else seemed to be home, save for his security guard, who was sleeping on the job. Which had been a relief. Villanelle didn’t know if Eve would be able to subdue such a large man. 

 

“He’s home. Ring the doorbell.” 

 

Eve nodded, and pressed a button next to the door. Villanelle shifted her sights back to the ambassador, who stirred from his sitting position, hanging up his phone, and taking his drink down with him to the first floor and towards the door. 

 

“He’s coming. Are you ready?” 

 

_ “God, no, _ ” Eve said, clearly on edge. “ _ Villanelle, I don’t know if I can… _ ”

 

“Eve. You’ve got this. Okay? Just stick the blade in where I told you to and get out of there. And don’t touch anything.” 

 

_ “It’s just...I have no reason to want to kill this guy. _ ” 

 

“It’s him or us, Eve.”

 

“ _ I know that...but...that’s not his fault. Ugh, if only he were a criminal or a really shitty tipper or something. You know? To give me a good reason. _ ” 

 

“Shh, he’s coming,” Villanelle hissed, and watched breathlessly as the ambassador opened the door. 

 

_ Come on, Eve, you can do this. _

 

“ _ Hi!” _ Eve said to the mark. 

 

_ God, she sounds like a Stepford Wife when she’s trying to act.  _

 

“ _ I, uh _ ,” Eve’s voice dropped back to it’s normal tone. “ _ I was told to drop by to wish a handsome gentleman a belated happy birthday. _ ” 

 

Eve leaned up against the doorway, making herself look irresistible.

 

“Good girl,” Villanelle purred into the phone. 

 

“ _ Hmm _ ,” the man said, his heavily accented voice barely audible from Eve’s line of the call. “ _ You were, were you? And American, too. Did my secretary put you up to this? Or was it Simon? He’s always good for little tricks like this. _ ” 

 

“ _ Does it matter who sent me? All that matters is I’m yours for the night. _ ” 

 

“I hope you don’t mean that, Eve, I have plans for you,” Villanelle whispered into the phone.

 

She could practically see Eve shudder. Villanelle grinned triumphantly. 

 

“ _ Well, then, in that case, come on in, _ ” the man said, and stepped aside so Eve could enter the villa. 

 

Honestly, if it had been Villanelle, the man would be dead already. She wondered how long Eve planned on dragging this out. Villanelle’s first thought was that maybe she was trying to prolong the high of the kill. But she knew that Eve wasn’t as quite in love with the job yet as Villanelle was. No, if she was stalling, it was most likely becuase…

 

She was doubting herself.

 

Shit. 

 

“ _ Would you like a drink? _ ” the man asked.

 

“ _ God, yes _ ,” Eve sighed, her eyes locked on something on the mantle of the entryway.

 

What was it? Villanelle moved away from the car, trying to get a better look. 

 

It was a picture of the ambassador and his family. Wife, three young children. 

 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

 

“Don’t worry about them,” Villanelle said, grabbing the phone and juggling it in her grip as she kept her sight on her with the binoculars. 

 

The ambassador had stepped into the kitchen a few paces away, his view of Eve blocked momentarily.

 

“ _ Villanelle. Christ. He has a family. I don’t know if I can… _ ”

 

“You have to, Eve.” 

 

“ _ If I just...if I had a reason to want him dead.... _ ” Eve struggled.

 

She was going to choke. Goddamn it Eve and her bleeding heart were going to choke. 

 

Villanelle had an idea.

 

“Hang on. Just keep playing along for a minute, okay?” 

 

Villanelle opened the laptop sitting on the hood of the car, opening up the man’s file and searching through it furiously, knowing all the codes and tips of how to read it that Eve wasn’t quite fluent in yet. There had to be something in here she could use. Something to motivate Eve into doing what she had to do, in the same way she had been motivated to kill Raymond. She needed a push. 

 

_ There. Perfect. _

 

She grabbed the binoculars and rushed back to her earlier vantage point. 

 

“Okay, Eve? Listen to me.”

 

The ambassador was walking back towards Eve.

 

“ _ So, where to? _ ” the man asked. “ _ Straight to the bedroom? Or did you have something else in mind _ ?” 

 

Eve bit her lip. To the ambassador it probably seemed flirtatious, but Villanelle knew that Eve was racing to think of an answer.

 

“ _ Actually, was that a hot tub I saw outside? _ ”

 

The ambassador smiled.

 

“ _ It was. Follow me, my beauty. _ ” 

 

“Eve,” Villanelle cut in. “That wife of his? She’s tried to file for divorce twice on claims of physical abuse.”

 

The ambassador stepped out onto the patio, and Eve followed tentatively. He grabbed her ass roughly as she walked past him towards the hot tub. Eve jumped at the touch.

 

_ Oh, if you don’t kill him, Eve, I will.  _

 

“Eve, the government keeps covering up the attempts at getting the story out there. He’s keeping her trapped in an abusive marriage for the sake of appearances. Do you hear me? He’s a bad person Eve. If you don’t get rid of him, you’re condemning an innocent woman to a terrible fate. Okay?” 

 

Eve froze in place.

 

“Eve?” Villanelle pressed, wondering if she could still hear her. 

 

The man slunk up behind Eve, wrapping his hands roughly around her waist. 

 

If Villanelle had even blinked, she might have missed Eve grabbing the knife from where it was concealed in her bra, opening it, and plunging it into the man’s throat, right in the artery, just like Villanelle had instructed her. 

 

The man staggered back. He tried to pull the knife out, but it was wedged in deep, and he only managed to make the blood rush out of him that much faster. He gripped the wound with his hand, trying in vain to clot the blood gushing out of him. Eve watched as he continued to stagger backwards, until he fell into the pool, his body flopping in uselessly, the water around him staining red like something out of The Ten Commandments. 

  
“Holy shit, Eve!” Villanelle said, elated. “Oh, shit.” 

 

She only then remembered she was Eve’s escape car, and in a frenzy, she grabbed the gear off of the hood of the car, tossed it into the back of the car haphazardly, and started the car, dirt sputtering out from under the rear tires as she took off down the hill to retrieve her partner in crime.

 

“Eve, I’m on my way down. Get ready to run.”

 

“ _ Villanelle, he’s… _ ”

 

“ _ Super _ dead. Yeah. Nice job. Did you get the knife?”

 

“ _ Oh, shit. Hang on. _ ” Villanelle heard Eve breath heavily, and then heard a couple of thuds. “ _ God, why does this remind me of having to pick dead frogs out of my parent’s pool when I was a kid? _ ” She grunted in effort. “ _ Oh, come on, work with me, you dead bastard! Okay! I got it! Oh god that is a shit ton of blood. _ ” 

 

Villanelle came to a screeching halt in the driveway, throwing it into park and leaning out the window. 

 

“Let’s go!” she said, feeling absolutely euphoric as she drank in the sight of Eve’s hands covered in blood, pinkish from being mixed with pool water and dripping down onto her dress and legs. 

 

Eve stumbled her way over to the car, in a little bit of shock, but overall handling herself a lot better than she had after Raymond. 

 

Villanelle had been right. Eve was a natural.

 

Eve tried the door handle twice, barely able to grip it with her slippery hands, until Villanelle leaned over and opened it for her. Eve dropped herself into the passenger seat, the bloody blade of her knife sticking out like she might use it again if she chose.

 

Villanelle sped away from the villa of the now dead ambassador and they disappeared into the night.

 

*

 

Villanelle was laughing like a maniac the whole drive. Eve was growing concerned that she might not be able to control her laughter, like she was stuck in it like a record skipping. But at the same time she couldn’t help but join in with her. 

 

She had done it. 

 

She had killed a guy.

 

Again. 

 

The car rocketed up to a cliff overlooking the ocean and came to an abrupt halt. Villanelle’s laughter reduced itself to an amused chuckle and she stepped out of the car, popping the trunk and pulling out the duffel bag they had brought. Eve stepped out slowly, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her as if she had just run a marathon. 

 

Villanelle started gathering their gear into the bag, and, once the car had been emptied, took a cloth and wiped down the steering wheel and doors to rid the car of their prints. Eve watched Villanelle, amazed at how quickly and efficiently she did her job. 

 

She was worth every penny The Twelve had ever given her. 

 

“Hey,” Villanelle said, snapping Eve out of her daze. “You good?” 

 

“Uh...yeah. Yeah. I’m good.” 

 

“Good. Move a few steps to your right, please.”

 

“W-why?” Eve asked, and before she could pursue and answer, Villanelle leaned back into the car, which was still running, from the driver side door, threw it into drive, and jumped away from it like a twelve year old boy lighting off an M-80. 

 

The car pulled itself slowly towards the edge of the cliff. Villanelle moved to join Eve where she was standing, wrapping an arm around her waist. The front tires were no longer on the ground. The hood dipped down over the edge, the car teetered, and tipped over the cliff, rocketing down towards the water in a series of booms and cracks.

 

“Hmm,” Villanelle hummed with a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction. “Now  _ that _ was fun.” 

 

She gripped Eve by the waist, spun her a bit so they were now facing each other, chests flush against each other, and kissed her hungrily. 

 

Eve’s eyes fluttered shut. She gripped Villanelle’s tensed arms to balance herself. The still wet bloodstains on her hands and dress smeared onto Villanelle’s jacket and she kissed her back. The kiss was messy. It was desperate. It was perfect.

 

_ Yeah,  _ she thought. 

  
_ This  _ was _ fun.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW IT DIDN'T REALLY MAKE SENSE THAT KONSTANTIN WOULD DROP IN JUST TO BE A COCKBLOCK BUT I WANTED TO KEEP THE TENSION GOING UNTIL AFTER EVE'S KILL IM SORRY.
> 
> I...don't know how I managed to crank this absolute behemoth of a chapter out in a couple of days but like?? Cool??
> 
> I promise the steam will be back in full force next chapter.
> 
> I also have some potentially bad news. This story only logically has another chapter or two left until it's conclusions.
> 
> But the good news is that I have an idea of how to keep this party going beyond that! If you guys are up to the idea, I wanted to make this a part of a series and make some one shot murder wife scenes based on...wait for it...whatever tf you guys want! A totally prompt based thing. You can ask for whatever you want: who should do the kill, who the kill should be, the location, the characters involved. Whatever. I'm down if you are! So if you guys are down, send me a prompt, either in the comments, or on tumblr ( @ schatzietess) 
> 
> As always, I love you guys so much for all your support and for having joined me in this entirely unstructured story creation. You're the best 
> 
> Comments and kudos fuel my needy needy soul. 
> 
> Have a good rest of your night!!  
> -Tess


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DONT YELL AT ME ABOUT HOW LONG ITS BEEN SINCE I UPDATED. I KNOW, OKAY?? 
> 
> Have some smut to make up for it. Bc this chapter is NSFW :)

Kenny was lost in his thoughts, on a whole other level of existence entirely, it felt like, when a manila folder was slapped onto his desk, jolting him into the present. 

 

“Sorry,” he said as he straightened. Apologizing was a reflex. He never knew if he should actually be sorry for anything or not, it just came out of his mouth like a verbal tick. 

 

“Got a case,” Jess said. “Spanish ambassador, killed in his home and left to bleed out in his swimming pool.” 

 

Kenny blinked, processing the information for a minute, before opening the file to see a few grizzly photos. He quickly pushed the pictures away, avoiding the gore and focusing on the written summary. This would usually be the part where Eve would snatch the pictures up and admire them like works of art, making comments that were wholly inappropriate and wildly unempathetic. Instead they just stayed there on his desk, untouched. He sighed at them. 

 

“Okay, so, were there any surveillance cams at the home?” he asked.

 

“Only one at the front door, and it has squat,” Jess replied. “The assailant must have entered through the back door, nearer to the pool.” 

 

“Witnesses?” 

 

“Just a security guard. By his account, was in the basement nodding off when he heard the doorbell ring. By the time he made his way upstairs, the man was already dead.”

 

“So...no witnesses. No footage. What  _ do _ we have?” 

 

“One less politician to worry about?” Hugo piped up from the other side of the office. This was his first week back at work since he had been released from the hospital after being stabbed by God knows who and left to die by his now-deceased coworker. Kenny was frankly surprised that he returned to this department at all. Really, why were any of them still here?

 

Kenny sighed again. The three agents looked at each other, all knowing that there was a hole in their normal proceedings. If you took a picture of them, you could probably see the exact outline of where Eve should be standing, making some ridiculous theory that would eventually, despite all odds, prove to be almost exactly right. 

 

It had been almost two months since Eve had died. Two months of trying to figure out what went wrong. Even though they all knew. They had always known. 

 

If you play games with a murderer, all you win is a six foot hole in the ground with your name on it. 

 

The silence between the trio lingered, and Kenny distracted himself from it by flipping through the file. 

 

“Hang on,” he said after a moment, finding a few not so macabre pictures. “Tire tracks. It was a gravel drive, so no way to run them through a database, but look at the pattern.” 

 

Jess and Hugo gathered around Kenny’s desk, peering at the photos he had splayed out for them. 

 

“So, they start here, as if the driver had come barreling down the hill and not the road, then seem to sort of skid and spin around, and take off up the drive.” 

 

“So, what, the killer was in a hurry?” Jess inquired.

 

“Maybe he had a dinner reservation,” Hugo quipped. 

 

“Or  _ she _ ,” Jess replied.

 

They all went quiet for a moment, remembering all their days and nights spent chasing the female assassin who ended up killing their friend. No one wanted to assume “she” ever again.

 

“Was there any sign of struggle?” Kenny asked. 

 

“No. It didn’t seem like the guy saw it coming.” 

 

“So, then, these couldn’t have appeared until after the kill, right? Anyone who saw someone driving like that to their house would suspect something.”

 

“So, what, an accomplice?” Hugo asked. 

 

“Maybe. Which would suggest premeditation.”

 

“It’s weird,” Jess piped up. “To think that two people planning the murder of a public figure would start off as clean as they did, avoiding the cameras, taking the victim off guard, making a clean cut to the carotid artery, only to take off like that in such an uncalculated manner.”

 

“Maybe something went wrong?” Hugo asked. 

 

“Or maybe one of the killers is more organized than the other,” Jess said.

 

Kenny scratched the top of his head, feeling uneasy.

 

“Why does this feel…” he began.

 

“Familiar?” Hugo supplied.

 

The three agents grew quiet, looking to each other for answers, only to find the same troubled look mirrored on each of their faces. 

 

*

 

The hotel room door slammed against the wall with a loud crack as Eve and Villanelle tumbled into the room, unbothered by the sound it made. Villanelle kicked the door shut with the heel of her shoe, seeing as her hands were otherwise occupied. Hadn’t she promised herself she would take her time with Eve? Villanelle could only guess that she had left her self control somewhere in the car she had sent plummeting down a cliff. 

 

She couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t felt this kind of rush, this pure adrenaline and lust and utter abandon since…

Her first kill? Close. But no, the last time she had felt this way was when she had seen  _ Eve’s _ first kill, when she had sent that bloody axe flying into Raymond’s neck. It had been Villanelle’s undoing. She had gotten used to the rush of a kill, to the power she felt as she watched the light fade from her victim’s eyes. It was commonplace to her now, boring even. But this feeling was new, it was unexplored, and it was intoxicating. 

 

Sure, Villanelle had seen people kill other people before. But when it was Eve...it felt like lightning cracking off inside her chest, splitting her ribs open, lighting her on fire from the inside out. And she wanted that fire to consume her, and Eve, in all it’s agonizing glory. 

 

And she knew it wasn’t a one sided feeling. Villanelle let Eve grab her hands and pull her in flush against her body and they stumbled further into the room. God, the room was  _ terrible _ . But they had needed a new room, under a new name, and this small room in a rundown hotel on the edge of the city was the best they could come up with in the rush they were in to make use of it already. Eve tripped on a pull out couch that was behind her, dropping onto it and laughing at her own clumsiness. Villanelle laughed along with her, lowering her body to hover over Eve, chest heaving, half exhausted already from the long walk to the next stolen car that had gotten them here. She needed to get rid of it by morning if they were to get away with this. 

 

But morning would be an eternity away if Villanelle had anything to do with it.

 

Eve’s chest was heaving with anticipation and exertion. Villanelle watched it for a moment, mesmerized by the rising and falling of her breasts, by the tiniest spattering of blood on the swell of Eve’s cleavage that she had missed when she had cleaned herself off with the wet wipes she had made sure to pack. 

 

“If you knew how hazardous blood is, you would be just as cautious,” Eve had said as she’d stuffed three packs of sterile wipes into a duffel bag. 

 

“You missed a spot,” Villanelle said in a purr, tracing around the blood with a fingernail that scratched harshly.

 

Eve hissed, a grin growing on her face in response to the touch. 

 

“You forgot to mention how much the blood would spray,” Eve scolded with a devious grin. 

 

“You’re the detective, you should know these things,” Villanelle replied, fingernails continuing to dig in as the moved up to trace her collarbone and up to her throat. 

 

“Ex-detective,” Eve replied as her eyelids fluttered shut in response to Villanelle’s searing touch. “Now,” she said, and gripped the loose fabric of Villanelle’s button up shirt with both fists, using her as an achor as Eve pulled herself up off the couch and pushed Villanelle back towards the bed. “Would you like to keep talking about it?” Eve pushed her down so Villanelle was sitting on the edge of the bed and she hiked up the hem of her blood red dress so she could straddle the woman beneath her. “Or?”

 

*

 

Villanelle’s response was a guttural grunt peppered with mumblings in a language Eve couldn’t pick out immediately. Getting her to slip out of the habit of using English was usually a good tip off to Eve that she was on the right track. That and Villanelle’s blown out pupils, the dramatic rising and falling of her chest as her breath quickened, and the way her ever present smirk faded into a parted-mouth stare. If Niko had ever reacted to Eve’s touch the way Villanelle did, maybe she would never blown her world apart pursuing someone who did. 

 

If Villanelle had had any inclination that she would be in charge this time around, Eve would see to it that she would be proven wrong. The power of taking someone’s life had thrown Eve into an adrenaline induced euphoria that made her hungry for more power, more control. She understood it now. She understood why Villanelle was so damn cocky all the time. 

 

The dark hue of Villanelle’s jacket was able to hide the stain of blood Eve had left on it when they had reunited after the kill, but she was able to feel the now dry, stiff texture of it as she pulled the jacket away from Villanelle’s shoulders and tossed it aside. She could, however, still see the less prevalent stains on her shirt from when Eve, hands still wet with pool water and blood, had roamed freely against Villanelle’s body on top of that hillside. Eve let her eyes memorize each small smattering on the garment as she undid the buttons of it, from the top down, revealing a visible pulse in Villanelle’s throat, then a sheer white bralette, then her toned stomach, and finally the scar just above her hip bone. 

 

Villanelle seemed desperate to regain some form of control through contact, gripping Eve’s hips roughly and moving her grip upwards, the dress rising up with them. 

 

While Eve went to pull the shirt off of her, Villanelle tried to use the momentary distraction to her advantage, and moved to grip Eve’s ass in a way that would allow her to pick Eve up and switch their positions. Eve was quicker than her, though, her now free hands pushing Villanelle back by her shoulders as Eve rolled her hips against hers, causing Villanelle to moan suddenly. The sound was muted by Eve bringing her lips to hers in an attempt to quiet the sounds bubbling out of the back of her own throat, the sudden contact having more of an effect on Eve than she had anticipated. Villanelle’s abs tensed as she kept herself from being forced against the bed, hands moving away from Eve’s ass and to the where the fabric of the dress overlapped over Eve’s breasts, which she ripped roughly until Eve was exposed down to her waist.

 

“Oh my god!” Eve said in surprise. 

 

“I told you I was going to rip that off of you,” Villanelle replied simply, and with a laugh, Eve allowed her to pull the now useless garment up over her head and to cast it away. 

 

Eve felt a feverish chill on her skin now that she was fully exposed in front of Villanelle. Pleased with herself, Villanelle lay back on the bed, letting her eyes memorize the sight of Eve. Her stare made Eve feel beautiful and powerful and aroused as  _ hell _ . 

 

She quickly lowered herself overtop of Villanelle, kissing her desperately, hands roaming around Villanelle’s body like a horny teenager. She couldn’t help herself in that regard, every inch of her felt way too good. It made her need to feel  _ more _ . 

 

Eve moved her mouth to Villanelle’s jaw line, down to her throat, then her collarbone, in an exploratory yet very purposeful journey  _ down _ . She had never heard Villanelle at a loss for words for so long in her life. Eve was so used to hearing Villanelle go on and on and  _ on _ , talking everyone around her into a mesmerized trance so they would never see her next move coming, that she was surprised to look up from her vantage point just above Villanelles waist to see her simply watching Eve with a heady, expectant look. She kept her eyes locked on Villanelle’s for a moment, who responded to Eve’s questioning look simply by dragging languid fingers through Eve’s curls until she traced her thumb down to Eve’s mouth and rolled over her bottom lip. Eve bit down on it lightly, and Villanelle responded with a gasp and an involuntary fluttering of her eyelashes, and Eve knew she was on the right track. 

 

Eve felt like she was on autopilot. Every time she had fantasized about Villanelle it had always focused on what she would be doing to Eve. Maybe she had avoided picturing what she would do to Villanelle in kind because she was utterly unfamiliar with how to handle another woman. But she hadn’t even had a chance to question whether or not she was doing this right. Her hands and lips and body were simply  _ going _ , driven by an instinctual  _ need _ to see Villanelle come undone beneath her. 

 

Spurned on by Villanelle’s responses, Eve eagerly lowered her mouth back to Villanelle’s stomach, leaving a soft kiss on her scar like an offering at the altar of a god, one hand holding her own weight and the other tracing down Villanelle’s hips and back up her inner thigh until she felt Villanelle twitch slightly beneath her, a whimper tumbling out of the blonde’s mouth as she did so. Eve could feel the heat of Villanelle’s need, her fingers slid so near to her center that she could tell that Villanelle was damn near dripping with it. Eve took a torturously languid moment to let her tongue trace over Villanelle’s hip bone before she couldn’t resist her own curiosity anymore, and her tongue moved to dip down between Villanelle’s folds.

 

“ _ Holy fuck _ ,” Villanelle yelled out suddenly, both of them surprised by how intense her response was. 

 

Eve was surprised by her own reaction to it as well. The moment her mouth met Villanelle’s wetness, got a taste of it, she felt a flood of arousal rush between her legs. Why the fuck hadn’t they done this sooner? 

 

Villanelle bucked her hips in response to Eve continuing to slide her tongue at her center. Eve stilled her by digging her nails deep into Villanelle’s hip, which seemed to just make Villanelle react more strongly. Eve had to make herself contain a wave of laughter bubbling up within her; the result of the pure lust and dopamine high that having such a powerful woman trembling beneath her gave her. The most dangerous, murderous woman the world had ever seen was a reduced to a trembling, moaning puddle just from the flick of Eve’s tongue. She wondered if anyone else had been able to tame Villanelle so effectively. 

 

“Eve, what the  _ fuck _ ,” Villanelle gasped desperately as Eve quickened her pace of her mouth. 

 

No. Only she could do this to her, Eve thought arrogantly. 

 

Eve’s nails dug into Villanelle’s outer thigh so fiercely she wouldn’t be surprised if ended up drawing blood. But Villanelle cried out gleefully in response, pushing herself closer to Eve in a plea for more. Eve was happy to oblige, her tongue rolling in circles that pressed deeper and deeper against Villanelle’s clit until Villanelle squealed in response, and Eve locked onto the spot that had elicited the response until she felt Villanelle’s legs begin to tense and quake. Eve, who up until now had been fine being on the receiving end of whatever her former husband had wanted to do with her in order to bring their transactional version of sex to a speedy conclusion, never thought she would enjoy getting someone off this much. Every time Villanelle whimpered or moaned, Eve felt the sound mirrored within her own vocal chords. She wondered for a moment if she might tip over the edge herself just from the feeling of taking Villanelle there. 

 

“Eve?” Villanelle breathed. “Eve, I’m…”

 

Eve grinned against Villanelle, feeling all of her tightening up towards an inevitable release. She released her grip on Villanelle’s thigh as she continued to work her clit with her tongue with an unrelenting pace, and just as Villanelle sucked in a sharp intake of breath before she came apart, Eve plunged a digit into in rhythm with the movements of her mouth.

 

Within only a few thrusts, Villanelle cried out, a high pitched string of multi-lingual swears and prayers intermingled with a calling out of Eve’s name, over and over, until her hips fell slowly back down onto the bed, her muscles relaxed, and her breathing assumed a steady pant. After taking a last taste of her organism, eliciting a final twitch of her legs from Villanelle, Eve pulled away from her throbbing sex and rested her chin against Villanelle’s inner thigh, looking up at her. 

 

“You know,” Villanelle said, trying to hide the laboring of her breathing. “I had every intention of wearing you out first.”

 

“Well, you can’t win every time,” Eve said, pulling herself up until her face hovered over Villanelle’s flushed face and chest. 

 

“I’m sorry, in what universe does  _ that _ count as me losing anything?” Villanelle retorted breathily.

 

“In the one where I got you to speak Russian.”

 

Villanelle’s eyes went wide.

 

“Fuck!” she groaned, clearly annoyed with herself. 

 

“Hah! You did!” Eve declared triumphantly. 

 

Villanelle glared at Eve, the smile on her lips telling Eve that she  _ probably _ wouldn’t retaliate too violently.

 

“Okay, well,” Villanelle said, suddenly reinvigorated as she pulled Eve closer to her, positioning herself so Eve was beneath her grip as Villanelle lay on her side next to her. “Let’s see how many languages we can pull out of you then, shall we?” 

 

Eve laughed into Villanelle’s mouth as she let herself be pulled into a searing kiss, Villanelle’s hands already finding their way around Eve’s body in a way that made Eve shudder.

 

*

 

In a miraculous stroke of luck, no one had knocked on the door and interrupted them at any point of the evening. Though perhaps this was the one time Eve would have been okay with the interruption, becuase by the time the first hints of the light of dawn began to break through the small, dingy window on the wall to the left of the bed, she was utterly spent. Villanelle had the stamina of a race horse up for stud. It had become baffling at a certain point. 

 

Not that Eve was complaining. But the assortment of bruises, bite marks, and worn out muscles did slow her up a bit as they went about getting their things together and getting out of the hotel room as soon as they could so they could ditch the car and make their way back to London. 

 

The two were mostly quiet as they moved around one another in a more and more familiar morning routine. It would have felt domestic, normal even, if Eve wasn’t constantly reminding herself of the circumstances. There’s only so much normalness afforded to a duo team of assassins who celebrated their kills with a whole lot of increasingly rough sex.

 

Still, Eve felt a certain rush of happiness coursing through her, like what she imagined people were talking about when they referred to a runner’s high. She knew it couldn’t just be regular, new couple bliss. The deadly and toxic pairing the two of them made could never allow such a normal feeling.

 

Could it? 

 

“We didn’t forget anything did we?” Eve asked as she stood in the doorway of the hotel room, Villanelle moving to follow her out. 

 

“Just one thing,” she said, and pulled Eve into a deep, surprisingly tender kiss. “Okay, now we can go,” she said, and moved to lead the way down the hallway.

 

Eve tried to hide the idiot grin on her face. 

 

*

 

Villanelle ditched the car in a rental lot a half mile away from the train station after wiping the prints off of it as she had done the night before and removing the plates. It would be a day at least before anyone noticed that it didn’t belong there, if they were lucky. Before Eve knew it, they were in another train car bunk, on their way back to London, as if nothing had even happened. Except that  _ everything _ had happened, and now  _ everything _ had changed for her and for the both of them. 

 

*

 

“Are you going to sleep the entire time?” Villanelle asked stubbornly, her head popping over the ledge of the top bunk of the train car apartment and looking down at Eve.

 

“I just might,” Eve replied dismissively, shutting her eyes again. “I’m freaking  _ exhausted _ .” 

 

Villanelle scoffed, unhappy with this answer, and a moment later Eve heard her hop down from her bunk. 

 

“Fine, then. Scoot,” Villanelle said, and forced her way next to Eve on her bunk before Eve had even agreed to the arrangement.

 

“Hey!” Eve tried to protest, but she made room for Villanelle in the small bunk nonetheless. “You are getting way too comfortable invading my personal space.” 

 

Villanelle settled in so that she was laying on her side, facing Eve.

 

“Like you have ever had a problem with that,” she said with a cocky smirk. 

 

“God, you’re a dick,” Eve replied, but couldn’t help but feel a swell of heat in the pit of her stomach as Villanelle continued to stare at her in that look that Eve knew all too well. 

 

“I am aware of this,” Villanelle said, and leaned in to kiss Eve. 

 

Eve really did need to get some sleep. And yet she was was nothing but eagerly consenting when Villanelle’s fingers found their way beneath the hem of her pants and began to work Eve into a frenzy while her mouth left even more bruises on her throat. 

 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Eve breathed as she felt herself rocketing towards a climax. “Oh  _ shit _ .”

 

*

 

Eve was sitting on a park bench across the street from the bank Carolyn had instructed them to go to after the job was done, waiting for Villanelle to reemerge with what she had gone in after. Eve had been incredibly curious about the new safe deposit box system they were to be using for their work, but with all the cameras that existed in London, she knew it was best for them not to be seen together whenever possible. And besides, Villanelle was a lot better at playing a character and outright lying to people than Eve was. 

 

It was a drizzly morning, like so many others there, but Eve didn’t mind the excuse to keep the hood of her rain jacket up, further concealing her appearance. A dead woman could never be too careful to make sure no one saw her up and about. 

 

She was looking down at her phone when someone sat down on the bench next to her. Eve only glanced at them casually, but when she saw that the person next to her was Carolyn and was staring right at her, she nearly leapt out of her skin. 

 

“Jesus, don’t  _ do _ that!” Eve hissed. 

 

“Hello again, Eve,” Carolyn replied obliviously, as always. “Good to see you.” 

 

“I was under the impression that I wouldn’t be seeing you at all after our last visit.” 

 

“Well,” Caryoln said, her eyes moving to casually people watch amidst the afternoon bustle. “A face to face interaction with you was needed, and frankly I was bored. So, here we are.” 

 

“And what is it that required this face to face?” Eve said, her hood naturally falling back as she turned to look Carolyn face on. 

 

Carolyn blinked several times.

 

“Good lord, Eve,” she said, her eyes flitting down to the now visible bruises on her neck. “Did your man put up a bit of a fight?”

 

“What? Oh! Um, no. That was...uh…”

 

Carolyn lifted her chin in sudden understanding. 

 

“I see. A bit of extra curricular violence, then? Well, to each their own. Just glad I didn’t walk in on it this time,” Carolyn looked back out to the crowd instead of directly at Eve. “Anyhow, I wanted to speak with you about your next assignment. It will be put in Villanelle’s lap, however that does not take any responsibility away from you. I have a request that won’t be found in the file.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“The file is specific about the  _ how _ of the deed. Villanelle, as you can probably guess, has a history of issues complying with specific requests of this nature. But the specificity is of the utmost importance in this case. And failure to follow instructions this time can and  _ will _ lead to both of your terminations. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

Eve gulped. She had allowed herself to forget for a moment that she was working for a mysteriously powerful group of people who had no issue killing whoever they chose without a second thought.

 

“I do,” Eve replied.

 

Carolyn nodded.

 

“Prove to me that Villanelle can be handled, and everything will be peachy.”

 

“I can. I mean, I will.”

 

“Good. Oh and one more thing, Eve. Your former co-workers are looking into the case from Spain rather closely. So best not do anything to clue them in to the fact that you’re not dead after all, hmm?”

 

Eve’s eyes went wide. She had figured that she would have to be careful, but she never would have never guessed they might have gotten onto her trail this quickly. 

 

“Okay. Um, yeah. They won’t find me out. You have my word.”

 

“I should hope so. Well, that’s all I had to say. Best leave you to your work. Oh, and Eve?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Carolyn tilted her head in a way that suggested that she was already far off into her own elusive thoughts. “Maybe pick a safe word before you two get too ahead of yourselves.”

 

“Oh, we already have one,” Eve said in a blank tone that mimicked Carolyn’s. “It’s Shepherd's pie.” 

 

Carolyn arched an eyebrow at Eve.

 

“Quite right,” she said, and left Eve alone on the bench again without another word. 

 

Villanelle reappeared from the bank and was crossing the street before Eve had too much time to think on what Carolyn had told her. She looked rather pleased with herself. 

 

“This is for me,” Villanelle said in a happy, sing-song type voice as she tucked a postcard into her jacket pocket to keep it from getting wet. “And this is for you.”

 

Villanelle handed Eve a thick envelope that she discovered was, upon opening it, full of quite a lot of cash.

 

“Holy shit,” Eve said in shock, not sure if she had ever seen that much money in cash before in her life. “Are you serious? How much of this is yours?”

 

“I already took my cut,” Villanelle explained with a shrug. “Put that away before someone notices it."

 

Eve stuffed the envelope into her pocket with shaky hands.

 

“Do assassins normally make this much money?”

 

“No, that’s actually a bit less than what I’m used to. But, there are some more perks to this job that make the pay cut worth it,” she said as she pulled her fingers through Eve’s hair in a familiar gesture. 

 

“Jesus,” Eve said. “Fuck MI6. Those assholes didn’t even give me good dental insurance.” 

 

“See? And you used to be so judgemental of my work all the time. Now, you see things my way.”

 

Eve gave Villanelle a sideways glance.

 

“What a terrifying thought,” she said, though she couldn’t help but smile at the realization of her own moral demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Did I have you guys going at the beginning there that I was gonna postpone the smut again??? LOLLLL)
> 
> Long time no write, kids! And that is entirely my fault! Well, that and work. Farming + peak season, whatrya gonna do, ya know? Anyway, this story has one more chapter left before I shut the book.
> 
> There might be, down the road, an addition or 2 in the form of one shots to this plot line. But seeing as I have one other WIP in this fandom I have equally neglected PLUS a new story i started working on in ANOTHER fandom...yeah...i can't promise anything ATM. 
> 
> But regardless, thanks for going on this weird journey with me. I'll see yinz soon for the conclusion. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make me happy, even when I don't reply to them immediately bc honest to god i suck...but I see all of them and I appreciate the eff out of you guys! 
> 
> Have a good week!  
> -Tess


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